A Poisoned Soul
by potterheadcharles
Summary: When Harry Potter married his long time girlfriend Ginny, he never imagined getting stabbed in the heart on his wedding night. But Harry Potter is no ordinary Wizard...he will return to wreak havoc on those who wronged him. Time Travel. Ewe.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:- **This is a one time disclaimer. I am not going to write it every chapter. So, please keep it in your mind if you don't know that

HARRY POTTER IS THE PROPERTY OF J.K. ROWLING.

I just had the idea of this particular story.

**Author's Note:-**_The premise for this story is inspired from one of my previous stories which got deleted from this site, that is to say, that the first two chapters are essentially the same with some minor changes. I am posting these two chapters today. The rest of the story is entirely different. Since English is not my first language and I have no Beta, you may encounter certain mistakes but I'll try my best to minimize them._

**PROLOGUE-CH1**

31 JULY, 2001

Harry Potter couldn't believe it.

After a lifetime of pain and suffering, sorrow and loss, and death, _real_ death, after countless battles and a great war, with an enemy who was as powerful as an elephant is in front of an insect, and as merciful as death itself is in front of frail old men who had no purpose left but to die, after being a winner and a hero, after rebuilding a world which was torn apart from its very foundation, Harry Potter could _finally_ do something for himself. He could finally live his dream. Not a complete dream, but it was a dream come true nonetheless.

He could finally have a family.

As he waited on the altar with his best friend Ron Weasley for his lovely bride-to-be, Ginny, his one true love, he reflected on how he had finally proposed to the girl he had dated for almost five years. Although he had broken off with her when he was away on the camping trip all those years ago, she had waited for him. He marveled at the idea that he himself had several doubts regarding the matter of his success, but she had never doubted him. She had told him the very next day, "I knew you would win, dear. After all, we have to get married someday, don't we?"

He had been caught as a deer in headlights at the idea of marriage but Ginny had waited. Patiently. She had allowed him to cope with his grief, gave him a shoulder to cry during his episodes which had initially occurred almost daily. She had held him and given him reassurances during his nightmares. She had been a wall of support when he thought he would surely fall. Slowly, but surely, she had healed him.

And now, she was about to become his wife. The one person he loved more than anyone in the world was to become his better half.

Harry had initially thought that she would want a very big, very magical wedding. But she had expressed her desire to marry in a muggle way and that too, not at the Burrow, but at a simple church. At first, Harry was puzzled by this request but then he realized that she was doing this for him. His Ginny knew that he hated big crowds, so she herself had settled for a small muggle wedding, since it wasn't possible to have a magical wedding without the presence of the whole wizarding world right there in the tent, praising, whistling and clapping for their hero and savior.

He smiled fondly at the thought how well she knew him.

How lucky he was to have her in his life. How lucky he was to have a girl who loved him so much more than he himself could love her.

He was about to find out.

* * *

He saw as she made her way towards him taking her father's hand. He saw her smile and radiance as she positively glowed at the prospect of marrying him. He saw the beauty, that was his Ginny, blush, as she looked him over. He noticed that her eyes never came upon his face. Instead, she had fixed them upon the Goblin who stood at his side for the magical registration of their marriage. She was shy. Oh! How shy she was of him.

It was fortunate that the Father, who was the only muggle, could not see the Goblin, otherwise he would have mistaken him for the groom.

At last, she reached him and looked up to meet his eyes and her smile grew wider. If it wasn't him but anyone else, they might have thought that it was a big smirk rather than a genuine, caring, loving smile, but it was him and he knew his Ginny. He was so happy to know that she was so happy at the prospect of marrying him.

Oh how giddy he was!

The priest finally started speaking and all paid attention to the words being spoken. He had his eyes and ears only for his beloved.

The vows were spoken and he never once blinked as he gave himself completely to her.

He heard her recitation of the sacred vows and his heart filled with affection. He thanked God as the priest pronounced them man and wife and he blinked his tears away as he gave her a gentle, loving kiss.

* * *

The after wedding reception went well and they thanked all the guests who gave them gifts and congratulations.

He himself was anxiously waiting for the time when he would be left alone with his wife.

It seemed to take forever but finally only the Weasleys remained and Ginny suggested that they all have dinner together.

Everyone agreed and as they sat at the dining table, he could feel an almost overwhelming love for his surrogate, no, it was his _real_ family now.

All the Weasleys except George were present. George had never been the same after Fred's death. He had lost all his desire for pranks and it was as if he had lost his voice too. Over the years, he had gradually decreased his contact with the others and got himself a job in a muggle post office. He now worked as a clerk there and lived a lonely existence. Everyone from the family had tried to get him to open up but it was for naught. Harry himself went and visited him once every few weeks but he could never find anything other than a shell of a person who was George Weasley before he lost his twin.

He started from his thoughts as Ginny said something to him.

"Sorry, love. What did you say?"

"Harry, I proposed a toast for us. Our marriage. Here, drink this." She smiled as she gave him a drink.

"For Harry and Ginny" Everyone chorused and drank.

"What was- " Harry never completed his question as darkness fell over him.

* * *

When he awoke from his slumber, he found himself lying face-down in the store room of his newly built home which they had named Potter Cruise.

He was wearing only his underwear.

He felt confused and disoriented but quickly remembered about the dinner with his family and then the toast and the drink. But, what happened after that?

He was startled from his thoughts when he heard his wife's amused voice.

"So, awake at last dear."

She was sitting in a chair in front of him and her face was shrouded in darkness.

"Ginny, what happened?" He asked with some difficulty. His throat seemed to burn for some reason.

"Oh, nothing love." She said sweetly. For some reason, her voice produced a shiver in his spine. It seemed a little too sweet. "We are here to give you a farewell."

"A farewell?" He asked. Something was wrong. Ginny was acting strangely. "Where am I going love? And where are my clothes?"

"If it isn't Harry Potter himself…Tut, tut, tut, your questions never cease, do they Potter?"

_Everything _stilled as Harry recognized the owner of that voice. He was standing behind Ginny. Harry saw as he leaned over her and gave her a kiss on her forehead.

"Malfoy, stay away from my wife?" Harry growled. "And what _are_ you doing here?"

"Ah, more questions, Potter. You never seem to learn, do you?"

It was as if it happened in a slow motion. Sometimes the defining moments of your life do happen this way. Harry Potter had a number of defining moments in his life. This was the slowest amongst them.

He saw as Malfoy picked _his_ wife up and himself sat in the chair. He saw as he put her in his own lap. He saw as he took a handful of her hair and pulled her towards him. He saw as he kissed her and he saw as _she_ kissed him back.

Harry saw red.

He jumped from his position and made his way towards them but before he could take more than three steps, a shield burst in front of him.

"Its no use Potter, you will die tonight."

Harry felt cold ice on his back. He slowly turned and tears welled up in his eyes as he took in the level of betrayal he had suffered.

"Ron…" He couldn't say much more than "…why?"

"I am still jealous, Harry. I tried. I really did. I even saved you back then in that forest, remember? But, but I lost Harry. I lost."

Harry stared at his first and best friend in uncomprehending horror.

"You remember, Harry. You told us what You-know-who said when you confronted him in our first year."

_"There is no light or dark, only power and those too weak to seek it"_

"You see, Harry. I had remembered it unlike you. I always wanted power, but somehow, although I now know its not your fault, you ended up with _more_ Power. I hated it. And I hated you for making me hate. Oh, so much hate…then, my sister, my genius, wicked sister came to me with a plan two years after we won…see, it was _we_ who won, not _you_, but you, you got the power, and I, Ronald Weasley remained a sidekick…anyway, where was I, oh yes, my sister, she told me about her plan to ensnare you, wed you and kill you and she knew I would agree and I did."

Harry was speechless.

"Now, now dear don't you worry. We are actually doing you a favour. Mum and Dad are waiting for you up there don't worry." This was Molly Weasely.

"IS THE ENTIRE FUCKING WEASLEY FAMILY TRYING TO KILL ME?" Harry roared while simultaneously jumping at her, but once again, a shield came into existence.

"No, no, dear, not the entire family. You know how Arthur is, he would never agree to this. He is, after all, a fool. Always lets me do as I please. You know about George. Same for Bill, Charlie, Fleur and your dear friend, Hermione. She doesn't know you are here. In fact, she's asleep outside."

"She would kill you."

"She wouldn't know." It was Percy this time.

"And what are you in for?" asked Harry tiredly. He was starting to feel numb.

"You know Harry, I have no personal hard feelings for you. In fact, I feel quite bad in doing this since you actually saved us all from that psychopath." Percy gave Harry a friendly, almost sad smile. "But Harry, I finally understand that a ministry position is not what I want, I want money. And that's the whole point of this exercise."

Money. Bloody Hell. They could have just asked.

"You said Hermione wouldn't know. How exactly?"

"That would be me Potter" drawled Malfoy and at last came out of the shadows and Harry understood.

"Polyjuice."

"Finally, you understood."

"Malfoy, you were unable to kill Dumbledore. What makes you so sure you would be able to kill me."

"Ah, you underestimate me Potter. I am no goody two shoes. I would have killed the old fool that day but its only natural to hesitate a little before your first kill. But don't worry Potter, since then, I have had practice." He smirked. "Plus, I have company here and reason…" His face shifted into a sneer as he completed, "…Lord Black."

Ginny Weasley finally came out of the shadows and looked at her new and soon to-be-late husband.

"Why, Ginny?" Harry asked with a few tears. He was feeling pathetic.

"Don't cry, love. I really tried giving you a quick painful death. But somehow, you seem to be immune to any poisons. I discovered that back in your fifth year when you were throwing yourself at Chang, that harlot, and even my carefully prepared Amortentia didn't work on you. Hence, I had to play these games." Ginny said sadly. "As for why, that's simple Harry. I want your money, your fame and your name but not _you_. You are so _clingy_, so pathetically _emotional_ that I can't believe _any_ girl could live with you. These past years were such a pain. But thankfully I had my Draco to appease me in bed. Now, _that's_ passion."

"YOU BITCH. I LOVED YOU."

"So die for me dear. I love you too, good bye." And with that Ginny Potter drived a dagger into Harry Potter.

And Harry Potter laughed.

Ron Weasley did the deed from his left.

Harry Potter laughed more.

Molly Weasley punched a knife from his right.

But he stood his ground and laughed some more.

Percy Weasley covered his back.

Harry still laughed.

Draco Malfoy didn't find it funny and punched a knife into his left eye.

Harry screamed but still, he stood and continued to laugh.

Then he suddenly stopped and looked Ginny Potter in the eye.

"I want…you…to…fi…finish." He stammered and Ginny's eyes widened but she complied and drived another knife in his chest.

Harry Potter finally collapsed on the ground but continued to wheeze, "You…think…you know…me…but…you are mis..mis..mistaken."

Ginny Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Molly Weasley and Percy Weasley all gaped as he continued with gasping breaths in spite of the extreme blood loss he was suffering.

"You…forget…Ha..Harry Potter…can…ne..neve…never…be…beaten."

Malfoy scoffed. "Not even you can come back from the dead Potter."

And Harry gave another wheezing laugh.

"Ask her." And he finally stilled.

Harry Potter couldn't believe it.

The Bitch killed him.

Harry Potter couldn't believe it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter -2**

Harry Potter opened his eyes slowly and found himself on the white King's Cross station for the second time in his life, err, death, or…whatever. The cloudy bright mist surrounding him seemed to emanate from everywhere but still, it wasn't hiding anything. He could still see several trains standing on the platforms. But there weren't any people. He wondered why his death always takes place in a train station of all places.

He looked down and found himself to be naked once again. He quickly thought of himself in clothes to preserve a decorum of modesty from whomever was coming to receive him this time.

He hoped it wasn't Dumbledore.

The old man was enough for once. The last time had made him understand that not even death could change Dumbledore. He was in so much shock at the events of that night that he had forgotten his anger at his supposed mentor who was preparing him for slaughter right from his birth. He didn't know if he'd be able to keep such control over himself this time.

As he waited for his company, he thought back to the betrayal he had very recently received from his wife.

He had to give it to her. She was an amazing actress. All those gooey eyes for years, proclamations of eternal love and promises of never ending happiness were enough to fool him and hide her true nature.

Little Demon.

What he couldn't fathom was the implication that Draco Fucking Malfoy was better in bed than him, Harry Potter. Oh yes! She must have always wanted a fucker when he tried to give her gentle, caring love. Oh, how he treated her like a fragile doll and how the bitch crushed him without a second thought.

And Ron!

He _should_ have known. The man can't get over his fucking jealousy. Years of friendship mattered so bloody little to him that he never hesitated to plunge a dagger in his _best mate_. What the hell was he thinking when he decided to make friends with the pig. Oh Hermione, dear Hermione, she will have to spend a lifetime with him. He wished he could do something to save her.

The pig took Draco bloody Malfoy, his lifetime nemesis, over his supposed best friend.

And that harpy, Molly Weasley, the woman must have proclaimed him as her son hundreds of times.

_He's as good as my son, my fuck._

Percy, he could understand. The guy was never trustworthy. He had always known that Percy Weasley could sell his own family to gain a miniscule amount of profit. But this was a low, even for him. A planned cold blooded murder.

My God. Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

For the first time, Harry Potter cursed Arthur Weasley for marrying that harlot. How did the man thought her capable of mothering so many children. Oh yes, he was a fool too. Just like himself. _He_ must have been easy with a love potion. And the man must have presented himself to her as a sacrifice when she got pregnant with his child.

At least, some children gained Arthur's traits. Mr. Weasley should have stopped after five kids.

Harry wouldn't have died if he had. Murdered. Percy alone wouldn't have the guts to do something like this.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Harry looked up to see that a figure was approaching him from a distance. But for the life of him, he couldn't place it as anyone he had even remotely known.

The figure was covered in all black and a hood covered the head, enough to throw a dark shadow which left only the portion below the nose to be seen. The skin seemed to be absolute white and to Harry's horror, the lips were absolute black. Those black lips were curled up in a smile which screamed 'danger'. The figure held a big scythe in its left hand and completed the classic Death's look.

The figure stopped in front of Harry and it seemed he it waiting for something. Harry realized that he would have to start the conversation and did so with the obvious question.

"Death?"

Death nodded its head.

"Um, can't you be a little less intimidating? I would have believed you without the getup."

Death's smile vanished and converted to a scowl.

"You dare speak to me like that, mortal?" Its voice was hoarse, grating and sweet at the same time. Harry couldn't have believed it possible if he himself hadn't heard it. It carried a strange hypnotic lilt to it.

"No offence." Harry replied softly.

Death nodded stiffly.

"Do you know why you are here, mortal?"

"Err…because I died?"

"Because you have been chosen by my three hallows."

Harry's mind raced. Hallows. This was all about them. But he had already given them up. The wand was back in the old man's tomb and the stone was lost in the forest. He only had his cloak and that too wasn't present at the time of his death.

"I'm still the Master of Death?" he asked nervously. It seemed odd to him that he could be the master of the sinister and powerful entity that stood before him.

The cloaked figure laughed. It was a chilling laugh which sent shivers up his spine.

"No…and yes."

"Sir, can you please explain it all at once?" Harry asked irritatingly. It wasn't everyday that he had a conversation with Death, so he was decidedly feeling a little overwhelmed. He hoped he had not offended the immortal being with his tone, but to his relief, Death only nodded.

"No one rules me mortal. No one. I am absolute. I am divine. I am the conclusion of all species and I am the Master of All." Death paused to let it sink in his head. "My three gifts were given to three brothers who called me forth in a time of need and assistance. They worked hard and they worked together to gain my favour. To each, I gave a gift of power beyond comprehension of any mortal. But it was a power for the worthy. The three brothers who gained my favour with unity stopped being worthy of my gifts when they broke their links with each other and drifted apart. My hallows were separated. You, mortal, combined them all _and _were found worthy. It does not matter where they went after that. You had already gained their allegiance. You became the Master of your _own_ death."

Harry was speechless. After a minute of tense silence, he finally asked, "So I can't die?"

"You can. You are dead right now. But -"

"But?"

"But I can give you one chance. One chance to make it better. One chance to correct your mistakes. One chance to take your revenge."

Harry gulped. This was too good to be true. If death was really as truthful as he was dramatic, then…but there had to be a catch.

"So I can go back."

"Not the exact time. Your body cannot be healed. But you can go back to any specific time of your life. Whether it be two seconds before your death or the day of your birth."

"And I will remember all this?" Harry questioned, excited at this turn of events.

"Yes. Your soul will merge with your previous self."

"But wouldn't that change history. I mean I could change everything."

"That is the power of my hallows mortal."

Harry was about to fall from the shock of it all when he landed on a chair. He gave a long sigh and chuckled. He realized that the bluff he called on Draco Malfoy just before dying was no more a bluff. He really could go back from being dead.

"What will happen to the foreign soul piece in my head if I go back?" he again asked the very helpful entity standing before him.

"It will be ejected," Death answered helpfully.

"What will happen to the hallows?"

"There will be no more hallows. That is the cost to send back your soul."

"Wait a minute." He was confused. "If you send me back in time, how the hell does it erase the hallows from existence? I mean, our whole history would be altered if there is no Elder wand."

Death paused. It had probably forgotten this one detail in its excitement over being free. "True. But you are mistaken. I will only take back the power of my hallows at the moment of your return."

"Power?"

"Yes. The wand will remain but it will be just another wand with elder wood and thestral hair. The stone will remain but it will not be able to recall the dead. And the cloak will be just another invisibility cloak, its power receding over time."

Harry thought about his next plan of action. He could go back and change everything. He could save so many lives. And he could take his revenge on those who betrayed him.

But where or more precisely, when shall he go? Harry realized with a jolt that he could save his parents and live a life he had wished to live forever. But can he save them from Voldemort when he is just an infant. Plus, he didn't want to disturb their peace. They will wait for him, they had said.

But he could definitely save Sirius. And Remus, Tonks, and Fred. And countless others. He could shove Dumbledore's manipulations in his arse. And he could build a new life for himself.

But there were problems. With no Elder wand, defeating Voldemort wouldn't be easy. He'd have to be beaten nice and fair. And that would take time.

Not seven years though. He did not want to go through ALL of that once again. Third year then, maybe? No. Saving Sirius was a close thing. Anything could go wrong with those cute little dementors on the loose and he won't be getting anymore chances.

Plus, he would hate to repeat those thrice damned tasks. No. So, it has to be the fifth, maybe in the hall of prophecies.

His decision made, he stood up and bowed.

"I have made my decision. What shall I do to go back?"

Death gestured forwards towards a train.

Harry nodded and made his way over there. He was just about to board the express when he turned and asked,

"When will we meet again?"

Death gave a short laugh. Harry didn't know why but it seemed a little less cold now, a little more genuine.

"Not for a long time, Harry Potter."

Harry smiled. Death was finally using his given name. It wasn't so bad after all.

And he boarded the train that would change History forever.

"Good luck, Harry Potter. To your next great adventure."

* * *

_Harry will jump back in time. To when? We'll see...Thanks for reading._


	3. Chapter 3

_One reviewer wanted Harry to save his parents...I have no idea how a one-year old infant could fight Voldemort and win..._

_To those who want to know, why not Cedric? Please forgive Harry for...temporarily...forgetting something after his brutal death..._

**Chapter-3**

When Death told Harry Potter that he could go back in time, he decided it to be the end of the fifth year, in the Hall of Prophecies, so that he could save his dear godfather Sirius Black, and kick some death eater ass in style. But as it happened, he remembered Cedric Diggory just before he got up on the train and his destination changed.

_Cedric stared at Harry. He unfolded his arms. "You — you sure?" _

"_Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah . . . we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just take it together." _

_For a moment, Cedric looked as though he couldn't believe his ears; then his face split in a grin. "You're on," he said. "Come here."_

_He grabbed Harry's arm below the shoulder and helped Harry limp toward the plinth where the cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held a hand out over one of the cup's gleaming handles. _

But before Cedric could understand anything, Harry Potter gave a blood curdling scream and Cedric recoiled. Harry fell forward on the cup and disappeared.

* * *

Soul Merging hurts. Shit, shit, shitty shit. It hurts so so much. The fucking thing feels like a thousand needles are penetrating you all over. Like all the cells in your body are burning at a thousand degree Celsius. Like a hundred cruciatus curses put together…

But then it gets over and you get to see Wormtail's shitty face.

"Avada Kedavra"

And Wormtail died.

Harry Potter screamed once again. This time, out of frustration. He had loved her, for fuck's sake. He had loved that bitch and she had killed him. Killed him for money, no less. And with Draco fucking Malfoy. He wanted to strangle her until blood came out of her eyes. Make her cry. And she _will_ cry, she will cry blood.

At some level, Harry knew that he was behaving like a deranged man but all he could see was blood. His blood. His emotions seemed under control on that all-white station but in the real world, he was beyond his threshold. And so, Wormtail had to die.

Now, where was that baby?

The graveyard was silent except for Harry's hurried steps towards the dirty bundle of ropes that was Tom Riddle.

Harry levitated the bag containing the foul baby and dumped him on the ground face first.

"Hello, Voldemort. Fancy seeing you here."

The baby gaped. Harry sent a stinging hex at him. Voldemort hissed, "You dare-"

Harry sent another stinging hex at the ugly monstrosity.

"Speak snake, but don't forget your manners," growled Harry Potter.

Voldemort gave him a dark look but just before Harry could throw another hex, he asked, "How?"

"No, better yet, don't speak," Harry interrupted. "First, let me tell you what I am gonna do with you?"

Harry conjured a blade, a shaving blade muggles used to shave. Voldemort, the homunculus, stared at him.

"Yes, Tom, yes. I am angry and I am going to use all that anger in making you scream."

And with that, Harry began slashing his blade as the greatest dark lord in the history of wizard kind wailed. As blood, more like dark puss, trickled down from the dirty baby-like thing, Harry Potter screamed. This dirty creature was the reason he had no real family..._this_ was the reason why he had to look for one.

_Slash_ _Slash_ _Slash_

When he began to feel that he wanted more, he decided to play football.

He kicked babymort with all his strength. Once, twice, thrice.

As Harry Potter was very angry, he wasn't thinking properly. Harry had forgotten the very important fact that along with Voldemort and Wormtail, a certain snake was also present in the graveyard on the night to when Harry had returned.

Nagini had been preparing for her Master's return for so long. She had truly believed that he would finally succeed. But, somehow, something had gone terribly wrong. The servant had been killed by the boy whose blood was required. And the angry boy was making her master suffer in front of her eyes.

Nagini, unlike normal snakes, was smart. Her master had already prepared her for a contingency just like this one.

As Harry Potter thrashed Voldemort, Nagini slowly slid behind him. She knew that the boy's blood was of immense value to her master.

Harry did not know how long it took before his legs stopped supporting him and he fell. But he was not finished. He crawled over to the abomination and strangled it with all his might.

Nagini thought of the boy as stupid. Strangulating a homunculus did not work. But the boy had given her an opening.

Harry had no idea where it came from but a huge snake leapt towards his neck and bit. Its fangs dug in his throat and he screamed. He could feel the spurts of his blood as the snake dug in angrily. Before he could do anything, the snake had gone towards Voldemort.

As Harry clutched his neck, he heard the abomination say something and both the snake and the master vanished from sight.

And suddenly, all his anger bled out.

_I messed up._

He had forgotten the snake, dammit. The snake that contained a soul of the dark lord. He knew that the poison couldn't kill him, thanks to Ginny Weasley. But the blood loss was bad news. He had to do something fast.

Harry slowly got up, moved over to the carcass of Wormtail and grimaced. He had to take it back to free Sirius, but the Avada Kedavra wouldn't be taken nicely.

With no choice left, Harry decided that he had to mutilate Wormtail a little. First he sent a couple of stunners at thin air, in case someone decides to check his wand. Then, he sent a blasting curse towards the rat's torso with just enough power to make a gaping hole in the middle. With his cover story ready, he touched Wormtail and summoned the cup towards him.

* * *

Harry felt himself slam on the ground, as unconsciousness tried to envelop him. Screams and applause treated his ears but it was a chore to keep himself steady. Cedric was the first to reach him and Harry smiled, acknowledging to himself that he was able to save someone.

"Harry, are you all right? What happened?" asked the older boy, seeing all the blood and gore and a dead body.

"Kidnapping attempt Cedric…" wheezed Harry. "Peter Pettigrew. Call nurse."

But before Cedric could even move, Albus Dumbledore was by his side. "Harry, dear boy, what happened to you?"

"I am losing blood Dumbledore, call the fucking nurse first," Harry snapped.

Albus flinched. "Of course Harry. Madam Pomfrey is attending Miss Delacour. She'll be here any minute…"

Dumbledore didn't like Harry's tone but it seemed the boy had come out of a fight, and so, he let it go for now.

"Dear lord – its Pettigrew!" the Minister of Magic had come. "Dumbledore, its Peter Pettigrew…"

"Yes Minister, I can see," replied Albus.

"Pettigrew was alive all this time…" Fudge was hyperventilating, again.

The screaming of the crowd had stopped. Some had seen the dead body and the slow murmurs had started. "Peter Pettigrew..but he was killed by Black…", "Only a finger was found…",…

Harry was thankful that it wasn't an innocent who was lying still on the ground this time and the irony was that this time, he _had _committed the murder.

Pomfrey came to his aid finally. Within a minute, she had stopped the blood and was thrusting blood replenishing potions at him.

Before Harry could stand up, Hermione was at his side. She hugged him tightly. "Oh Harry, I am so sorry…Are you all right?"

Seeing Hermione, young and beautiful, and the tension and worry she had for him, Harry's eyes stung. Hermione was the only person in the past and future who was _always_ by his side, no matter what. She was his rock, his pillar, his strength. The world left him, his wife _murdered_ him, but they were all so afraid of Hermione.

He would definitely miss _his_ Hermione, the older version of this girl. But he was happy to have at least one real friend here.

And so, before Hermione could understand, Harry took her in a tight hug and started weeping uncontrollably. The grief he felt, the pain, was too much. "Oh Hermione…don't ever leave my side again…"

Hermione did not ask any questions. She was of course intrigued by Harry's behaviour because Harry _never _cried, never ever, but he _was _crying right then. But she contained herself and for now, decided to give Harry as much comfort as she could give . She tightened her hold on Harry, kissed his forehead and patted him. "Sssshhhh..it's all right Harry…it'll get better…"

And then, Ron Weasley and _She_ were there.

In his heart, Harry Potter knew that the Ginny Weasley who was standing before him right that instant wasn't his future wife cum killer. Ron Weasley, though jealous, would save his life in the future. They were just kids, not murderers. They were dear friends of this Harry Potter.

But then again, getting murdered and coming back to life, unscrews something monumental in a human. So he did not give a fuck.

He will make them pay.

"Harry, mate…", said the backstabber… "Harry..", the harlot spoke…but Harry wasn't listening.

He slowly released Hermione from his hug and wiped away her tears. For some reason, she was crying along with him.

"Hermione, you are the best…," Harry told her, with a conviction in his voice.

And then, he turned around to face Albus Dumbledore.

"Now Harry, tell us what happened?"

"I will, Headmaster," said Harry, "but first, can you please find Moody. I think he is an imposter…"

Dumbledore was fast…

…but not fast enough.

* * *

The imposter in question, Barty Crouch Jr., was eagerly waiting for his master's return since the potter brat had entered the maze. Viktor Krum – Karkaroff's, that traitor's boy – was already under his imperius curse. Krum was under instructions to obstruct all save Potter, thus ensuring Potter's win and his master's return. Nevertheless, he had kept a close view on the maze. When Potter had finally touched the cup, he was overjoyed.

He was confident that Wormtail could handle the brat – a fourteen year old brat. After all, the boy was nothing out of the ordinary. Had it not been for Crouch himself, Harry Potter would have been toast in the first task itself.

But no, he had obviously overestimated the rat. He knew it as soon as Potter arrived on the grounds of Hogwarts with Wormtails's _body._ This was an unexpected development.

Barty had two choices – either he could continue his charade here at Hogwarts, or he could go back to serve his master, who might need him at this moment, since there would have been no one to complete the ritual once Wormtail died.

The choice was obvious. Barty ran.

Barty Crouch Jr. wasn't found.

Harry had a sudden urge to gnash his teeth together. This wasn't supposed to happen. The false Mad-Eye should have tried to take him to his office, just like last time. Harry was sure that he wouldn't run away.

But he had…

Someone had seen him limping towards the main gates. It was too late to stop him.

Harry now knew something nobody else did. Barty Crouch Jr. wasn't dumb like Wormtail – and so, in all likelihood, the ritual would be reattempted.

But what about the blood – _forcefully_ _taken_?

The answer came to him immediately – Nagini. That's why the snake had waited for so long before saving its master.

_Shit_

In all likelihood, Voldemort would be back. And Harry wouldn't even know when it happened, since he wasn't a horcrux anymore.

_Shit_

* * *

After the hullabaloo of seeing a dead body was settled and Peter was taken away, Dumbledore convinced the Minister that it would be best to carry on with the award giving ceremony before attending other matters in a private setting.

Harry Potter was announced the winner of Triwizard Tournament and handed over the promised amount of one thousand galleons.

Amongst the other champions, only Cedric Diggory was present at the ceremony since Fleur and Krum were recuperating from the effects of the unforgivable curses under Madam Pomfrey's care.

Harry decided that fair was fair and called Cedric upon the dais to share the trophy with him. Though initially hesitant, the other boy acquiesced to his request. The Hufflepuffs went ballistic. The Slytherins booed.

"I want to know why you screamed Potter…," Cedric whispered so that only Harry could hear.

"Hmmm?" asked Harry.

"You meant for both of us to win but then you just screamed your head off and fell on the trophy…why?"

Harry had no answer, so he kept quiet.

Afterwards, all the interested parties, that is Fudge, Dumbledore and Harry himself, retired to the headmaster's office. At Harry's insistence, Dumbledore allowed Hermione as well.

"Now Harry, it would be best if you don't keep us waiting anymore…," said the Minister.

Harry nodded. "The cup was a portkey. Peter Pettigrew tried to capture me, I don't know why. He very nearly succeeded too but in my self defence, I threw a blasting curse at him and he died."

"Oh my dear boy…I am so sorry," said Dumbledore.

"But Dumbledore, the boy killed-"

"-someone already believed to be dead Minister." It was Hermione Granger. "We told you last year that Sirius Black was innocent, but nobody believed us."

"Ms. Granger is absolutely correct, Cornelius. It is no one's but your fault," said Dumbledore.

"My fault.., my-," spluttered Fudge.

"Yes, and its time to right the wrong. You should immediately exonerate Sirius Black of all crimes."

"But-"

"No buts Cornelius, it is true that it was Minister Bagnold who was behind Sirius Black's unlawful imprisonment, but I implore you not to repeat the same mistake…," Harry had to give it to Dumbledore. The old man gave Fudge the scapegoat he desperately wanted.

"Bagnold..," realized Fudge. "Oh yes…it was Bagnold who created this mess."

He could almost see the wheels turning in the greedy man's eyes. Though Fudge was stupid, he knew how to turn something like this in his favor. Harry realized that Sirius might already be a free man.

"Harry," asked Dumbledore, "how did you know that Alastor was being impersonated?"

Now, that was a tricky question. Harry was deliberately avoiding the headmaster's eyes during this post-job briefing, and knew that the old man had to be suspicious, but he had no other option but to keep certain aspects of tonight to himself.

Voldemort's return was a topic that could turn away all the good will of the Minister, just like it happened all those years ago. Plus, Harry needed some time to think away from Dumbledore's machinations.

That's why nobody actually knew the identity of the imposter. Of course, real Alastor Moody would tell them eventually but then, it would be up to him to explain it all.

"When Wormtail and I were dueling, he let it slip in his excitement over capturing me."

Though Dumbledore nodded his head, Harry knew he was far from convinced.

This became apparent when he came back after escorting the Minister outside his office. Dumbledore asked both of them to remain seated and took his seat as well.

Hermione, in the meanwhile, had noticed that Harry had maintained a tight grip on one of her hands since he had returned. Not once, had he loosened his grip on her. This, she concluded, meant that Harry was keeping something far more important than Peter Pettigrew to himself.

He'll tell her eventually, she knew.

"Harry," began Dumbledore, "I am extremely sorry for what you went through today."

Harry could only nod once. He knew what was coming.

"But alas," Dumbledore continued, "it seems to me that you are hiding something."

"I was portkeyed to the graveyard of Tom Riddle. Voldemort, in his half-dead form was also present," said Harry nonplussed.

The speed at which Dumbledore reacted was something. He stood up, rounded the table and sat next to Harry.

"What happened, then?"

"Just what I told you, sir. He was entirely dependent on Wormtail, but since I managed to kill the rat, he had to fly away with his snake."

"Harry, can you give me your memory of the graveyard?"

"No," replied Harry.

"Why?" Dumbledore asked, looking mildly surprised at the clear refusal.

"Sir, with all due respect, I have noticed that you don't put as much trust in me as I do to you. Why is it that every time someone tries to take my life, I have to prove my innocence in front of everyone? Why don't you believe what I said?"

"But Harry-"

"No, sir…this time, you will have to trust me on my word. I am not comfortable with giving away my memories."

Harry knew it was lame but he had to do something and this was the best he had. Dumbledore absolutely could not know about the killing curse, or he would be blamed eternally by the old man.

Dumbledore, of course, knew that Harry was doing nothing but making up bullshit. But, what exactly did he want to hide?

Nevertheless, he allowed the boy his wish.

"You may now go, Harry. Come to me if you wish to speak," said Albus. "And Miss Granger, do take care of your friend."

Hermione could only nod.

* * *

_Thanks for reading..._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**_ Thanks for the response all of you. It motivates me to work harder! _

**Chapter-4**

As Harry and Hermione walked hand in hand towards the Gryffindor common room, they heard nothing but the sound of their steps.

Hermione was quiet because though she had questions, she wasn't sure Harry was ready to give away any answers.

Harry was quiet because though he had so many answers and he wanted to scream about the unfairness of it all, Hermione did not have appropriate questions to ask him.

"Harry…"

"Hermione…"

They both spoke at the same time.

"I need time Hermione…I will tell you everything after the summer vacations."

"OK"

* * *

As far as summer vacations went, Harry Potter had always hated them.

The primary reason being a family named Dursleys.

Harry had returned to No. 4 Private drive the previous day. He had passed the last few days of his fourth year at Hogwarts ignoring everyone save Hermione. She had understood his need for space and mostly just gave him quiet company. Harry was thankful.

After his death, Harry had had a lot of time to think. He had realized that though the Dursleys were a bunch of pigs, and though Harry hated them with a passion, they were still his family, his blood. They never loved him, but they did not kill him either.

In contrast to the family Harry had chosen for himself.

Thus, Harry decided that it was high time that his real family got something in return for letting him keep his life when they could have easily gotten rid of him.

"Uncle Vernon…"

"What, boy?"

"I need to talk to you," said Harry.

One minute later, Vernon finally deigned to look at him from the newspaper he was so thoroughly going through. "Will you speak already?"

Harry took a deep breath…this was difficult…

"Listen…I…"

"Are you asking for money, boy? Because I ain't giving you any."

"No. No. Actually, I want to _give_ you money."

"What?" Vernon lifted his eyebrows. "YOU will give US money..."

"What I meant is," said Harry, "that I want to thank you for…for keeping me in your house for so long…"

"Well, all right then…are you moving out?"

"No, I am not…at least, not now. I just want to thank you. And just so you don't think of me as a waste of space anymore, I want to give you rent for every month I spend here from now onwards."

Vernon looked at Petunia, who was watching Harry as though he had grown another head. After some tense seconds had gone and just when Harry was starting to become less sure of himself, Vernon spoke, "We don't want your money boy. Just keep your freak friends out of our home."

Harry nodded, remembering the ruckus that was created last summer, and ran back to his bedroom.

* * *

It took Harry a couple of weeks to cool down and get himself some semblance of a plan. Though there was no news about Voldemort's return, Harry's gut was telling him that he was back. He was also pretty sure that Dumbledore would have been informed by his pet potions master. And just like last time, the headmaster was trying to keep Harry out of the loop and isolate him.

But since there was no slander campaign against himself or the headmaster in the daily prophet this time, it also meant that Dumbledore was not keen on sharing this information with Fudge. Maybe because he had realized that it would be of no use until Voldemort came out in the open. And so, there would be no need of a Dementor attack orchestrated by Umbridge, and the Order won't be picking him up anytime soon.

It was almost mid-way to July when the daily prophet announced Sirius as a free man and Harry decided that it was time to pack up his bags and leave Privet Drive. After saying his good-byes to the Dursleys, Harry made his way to the nearby park under his invisibility cloak, that thankfully still worked, and called the Knight Bus. It was easy to fool whichever paltry guard Dumbledore had picked up for him. Harry was pretty sure that Dumbledore wouldn't even know about his absence for weeks, if he himself didn't tell him first. The guard will just assume that he was unwilling to come outdoors.

His first stop was Gringotts, the Wizarding Bank.

"I am Harry Potter," he told the nearest available teller. "I want to meet the manager for the Potter vaults."

It wasn't much later when he was sitting before a sharp toothed menace named Spikefrost. "What can I do for you Wizard?"

"I want to make a will, Goblin," said Harry.

The goblin took out an ordinary looking parchment from his desk, and a dagger.

It was an involuntary reaction.

On seeing the dagger, Harry jumped out of his seat and pointed his wand at the goblin.

Sprikefrost bared his teeth. "What is the meaning of this Wizard?"

"The dagger?" asked Harry.

"You have to sign in blood," snarled the goblin.

"Oh," said Harry, feeling stupid. He realized that these things frightened him now.

Getting a grip on himself, he sat down once again and pocketed his wand. "I am sorry."

"Don't. Ever. Take out your wand in these halls Wizard. This will be your first and last warning."

"I said I am sorry goblin. Don't make an issue out of it and don't get on my nerves. Now tell me the procedure…"

Spikefrost gave him a dirty look but did as told. "Take a drop of blood and put it on the parchment."

Harry did so.

The colour of the parchment changed to blood red.

"Now, speak your last will and testament. It will appear on the parchment," instructed the goblin.

Thus Harry Potter wrote his will for the first time in his two lives.

"I, Harry James Potter, under no compulsion, announce that if I die, everything I own is to be equally distributed between Sirius Orion Black and Hermione Jean Granger. If both of them are no more, then my next in line would be Neville Longbottom, or his heirs. Under no circumstances should any Weasley, namely Arthur, Molly, Percy, Ronald or Ginerva, or their heirs, get even a knut from my money. The same applies to the Malfoys, all of them.

So mote it be."

* * *

After Gringotts, Harry walked over to the shop of the eccentric wand-maker, Ollivander's.

"Ah! Harry Potter, 11", holly, phoenix feather, a great wand indeed…congratulations on winning the tournament."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said with a smile. "I wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Ask away, Mr. Potter," allowed Ollivander.

"First, tell me sir, how does the ministry tracks a Wizard's magic?"

"Through their wand, of course."

"Can you remove the trace on my wand?"

"I can but it would be quite illegal. So I, of course, won't."

"Of course," said Harry. "So if I were to use a different wand…"

"…the ministry will not be able to trace you. But I cannot sell you another wand Mr. Potter. It is against the rules."

"Of course," agreed Harry once again. "Sir, what can you tell me about brother wands?"

"Ah! A mysterious topic indeed Mr. Potter. You already know about the wand, made of yew, which is brother to your wand, made of holly. Say, if both wands were to attack each other, it will then become a contest of will…rather than magical knowledge."

"And if both wands were used together?" asked Harry.

"Dear boy, do you have the dark lord's wand?" Ollivander questioned, his voice going up a notch.

" Of course not Mr. Ollivander…but say if both wands were used simultaneously…" Harry pressed.

"You should never use two brother wands together. They will fight for your magic…drain you from the inside out…"

Harry rubbed his chin in thought. Lord Voldemort's wand _was_ in his possession, even as he stood in front of the old wand-maker. He had found it on Wormtail's body in the graveyard that night. Harry wanted to use it as a backup but he also wanted to be able to use both of his wands together.

"I want to buy another wand, Mr. Ollivander…preferably without a trace."

"I already told you Mr. Potter-"

"I know it's illegal. But listen…I can tell you something not only you but every wandmaker in wizarding history always wanted to know…if only you agree to sell me another wand…"

Ollivander looked intrigued. "Curious…what would that be."

Harry smirked. "The location of Elder Wand."

The reaction was instantaneous. Ollivander was taken aback…his eyes gleamed…the dream of every wand-maker…

"You know," he whispered, "about that wand?"

"I do…"

"But how?"

"That I cannot say," said Harry. "But I can tell you who currently holds the wand in his possession."

Harry knew that there was no way the old wandmaker would let this secret slip him. He had no idea how Ollivander never looked hard enough at Dumbledore's wand…it was like none other. But it suited him just fine.

Just like he thought, Ollivander agreed to his proposal. "Very well…I shall give you a new wand…a wand that was perhaps waiting for you…a wand that the Ministry will not be able to trace…"

"And the trace on my current wand?" Harry quickly questioned.

"That," said Ollivander, "I will not do anything to remove. I can only do so much Mr. Potter, going against my conscience."

Harry nodded. "As you wish"

Ollivander then went inside his shop and came back a minute later, carrying a dusty old box. He proceeded to remove the lid and motioned for Harry to take the wand.

As Harry closed his fingers against the offered piece of wood, a slow tingle spread throughout his body. It felt as if an old friend was meeting him after years of separation. It wasn't the raw power of his original wand but a soothing calmness that held promises of the future.

"Just as I thought…a good match indeed," said Ollivander. "Nine and a quarter inches, ebony, unicorn hair core…this Mr. Potter, is a wand which is connected to your past."

As Harry gave him a questioning look, Ollivander explained. "This is also a brother wand Mr. Potter. The unicorn that gave the core for your new wand gave just one more hair…just one more…and that wand belonged…to your Father, James Potter."

Harry swallowed. Ollivander had a way of making everything sound way bigger than it actually was…but this _was_ big. Brother to his father's wand – the wand that was probably destroyed on that fateful night – had chosen him.

"I have offered this wand to many wizards and witches before you Mr. Potter. You are the only one who received a positive treatment…"

"Thank you, sir," said Harry sincerely. "I am indebted to you."

"No dear lad…just tell me what you promised and I'll take that as the payment."

"Very well…Albus Dumbledore possesses the Elder wand," Harry finally told the anxious wand maker. "He took it from Grindelwald after defeating him in their last duel, who himself stole it from Gregorovitch…"

"Oh my…and Albus never told me in all these years?"

"He wouldn't," said Harry knowingly. "Albus Dumbledore likes keeping his secrets to himself. I would also like you to keep this meeting between us to yourself, sir."

"I will"

Harry thought it pertinent to issue a warning to the wand maker before going away. "Sir, I think I should tell you something no one else knows. I have reason to believe that the Dark Lord Voldemort has regained his body and he is in need of a wand. It would be cool if you put up some wards-"

_BOOM_

Death could only do so much for Harry Potter. His luck was an entity in its own right. Before he could even complete his warning to Ollivander, the entrance to the wand shop exploded and Harry was thrown off his feet, glass and wood splinters flying in all directions. A contingent of four masked death eaters entered the ruined shop, even as an injured Ollivander tried to put up a shield.

The people outside started screaming their lungs out and apparating away, instead of fighting the terrorists. Diagon Alley was burning once again. Two of the masked men started piling up wand boxes to take them away.

Harry was only half conscious when he heard the screams of the old wand maker. Someone had begun playing with the unforgivables.

"Enough…" snarled a voice Harry could easily identify as Crouch Jr. "No point in putting up a fight old man. Dark Lord calls you for a meeting."

Yes, Harry had had enough. It seemed that the impersonator had not identified his student. Opening his eyes, Harry gripped his new wand as its magic hummed in his veins. The old wand was kept safely in one of his pockets.

Throwing caution to the wind, Harry fired a reductor at Barty's back, but just at the last moment, a shield came into existence. Barty Crouch looked at Harry Potter and hissed, "I am not Wormtail, Potter. Good thing that we met here…"

"Why is that, Barty?" Harry replied, getting up on his feet. "Do you want to get kicked like your ungrateful good for nothing master?"

Crouch Jr. replied with a killing curse and Harry had to jump away. He landed on several chunks of broken glass but managed to yell, 'Confringo!' towards one of the other death eaters. It seemed that Crouch had brought some rookies with him, as the other man was blasted away without any effort to shield himself.

"Constant Vigilance," called Harry, taking a dig at his former teacher. Inwards, he was irritated at the lack of response from the aurors. They should have been here by now.

"Take him away…" hissed crouch, pointing at Ollivander. "I will deal with this nuisance."

"Not so fast…," said Harry, throwing a stunner at the new recruit, followed by a blasting curse at Barty.

Barty's reflexes were fast enough to shield both of them. Harry shielded himself from an incoming volley of bone-breakers, blood-boilers and had to put up a solid shield when one of the newer recruits threw a Cruciatus in his excitement.

Quickly abandoning his shield, Harry let loose a string of blasting curses, taking away one more death eater, when a reductor from the other side impacted him square in one of the knees and Harry fell forward, his blood and gore flying in all directions.

Biting his tongue to not give away any satisfaction to the fuckers, Harry threw a conjuctivitis at Barty Crouch Jr from his downed position. Not expecting such quick retaliation, he could only scream as one of his eyes burst in its socket.

Taking advantage of his inaction, Harry threw a wide area cutting curse at his opponents. Barty was quicker this time but the last recruit wasn't. He was sliced into two from the middle.

Screaming his throat raw, Barty sent two killing curses his way one after another. Harry put a solid shield against one and rolled to his side, dodging the other. His leg screamed but he didn't.

He again surprised the death eater by throwing a flaming whip towards him, as he himself felt a bone breaker connect with his shoulder. While Barty doused his robes with water, Harry threw a powerful banisher at the burning man that sent him flying away outside the shop.

Harry slowly crawled towards Ollivander, who was huddled behind some desks. "RUN," he shouted.

But it wasn't needed. Crouch had already fled by then.

Harry realized that he could still make an exit but once again, he was losing too much blood. His vision was blurred. He needed a medic, or he would have to meet Death a little too soon.

But not St. Mungos.

Unwilling to think more than necessary, he stuffed a piece of cloth in his mouth and used a spell he had learnt in the auror academy to cauterize his leg and stop the flow of blood…taking a deep breath, Harry Potter apparated.

Into Hermione Granger's bedroom.

* * *

_Do leave a review...Thanks for reading._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter-5**

Hermione Granger, a muggleborn witch, was the daughter of two dentists who were very good at their work. Called the brightest witch of her age by many of her peers and teachers alike, she was also one of the best friends of Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Hermione made a face, thinking about that idiotic title. Harry hated it when people hyphenated his name.

_Harry_, sighed Hermione. It had almost been two weeks since she had seen Harry. She wanted to talk to him so badly but he had asked her to wait. Hermione knew that Harry had once again come face to face with Lord Voldemort but that did not warrant Harry's behavior. If it was anyone but Harry, Hermione could have easily believed that the trauma was too much to handle…but Harry had already faced Voldemort in the past and come out on top.

_Oh, Harry…what happened to you…_

Hermione cursed whoever had come out with the idea of reviving the long forgotten tournament.

Hermione did not know why but she could never see Harry in pain. It did not matter, whether it was physical, mental or emotional, seeing Harry's suffering felt like hell to her. She did not know how or when it had happened, but Harry had become someone more than a best friend for her. Save her Mum and Dad, Hermione could not think of anyone for whom she held so much regard in her heart.

If Hermione hadn't been sure that Harry would never think of her that way, she would have not hesitated to put a name to her feelings. But as it was, Hermione was a very practical girl and knew her limits. She was no Cho Chang or Ginny Weasley. She was plain old Hermione. She just felt lucky that she was not sporting buck teeth anymore…

Lying on her stomach, Hermione was thinking about the boy who sported a lightning bolt scar, when she heard the distinctive pop of someone apparating in her room.

Sitting up, she was shocked to see the bloodied form of the above mentioned boy lying flat on the floor of her bedroom.

"HARRY," she screamed and jumped up from her bed to help him.

"Oh my God, Harry," shrieked Hermione, unable to keep herself under control. "What happened to you?"

"It's just my leg…" whispered Harry. "Call your parents please. "

Hermione did not stop to think about the missing leg. She was grateful that Harry was at least conscious and so, ran towards her parent's room. Knocking only once, she entered their room, ignoring their indecency.

"Hermione, what-"

"Mum, Dad, I need you. My friend…he is injured…please hurry…Harry…in my room…" she managed to choke out, shock of seeing Harry like that overpowering her senses.

Dan and Jean Granger quickly grasped the gravity of the situation and took control. They ran towards Hermione's room, wondering how in hell they had not known that there was a _boy_ in their home, but were too shocked to see the said boy's condition to ask any questions. For God's sake, he was missing a leg.

"Call an ambulance…fast," Jean asked her husband.

But before he could as much as move, the boy shouted, "NO".

First, Jean was amazed to see that the boy was conscious enough to shout at them. Further, he did not want to go to the hospital.

"No?" Jean asked. "What do you mean by no?"

"Ma'am, I have already…stopped the blood flow," wheezed Harry, pointing towards the charred lump of mass. "I am a Wizard…I will get better if I get some rest…my magic will heal me..."

"But-" Dan tried to interject.

"Look…" said Harry, cutting him off. "Please try to understand. Some people are after me…"

Both the dentists looked at each other with wide eyes.

"After you?" Jean asked.

"Yes…" said Harry. "Please, I just want you to…apply some antiseptic to avoid infection and then a bandage and clean me up…if you can. If you could also arrange for some blood, it would be great…"

Though Dentists, Dan and Jean were knowledgeable enough to perform the duties this boy, who seemed younger than their Hermione, had assigned to them. But they knew that he needed a hospital.

Had it not been for the 'Some people after me' thing the boy had said, no amount of groveling could have kept him from a proper doctor, but as it was, he seemed truthful in his words.

So they did as they were told.

"What is your blood group Harry?" asked Dan, getting ready to pick some blood from the nearest hospital. Jean was treating the abused leg as best as she could.

"Same as mine," said Hermione, from the doorway, making her intentions clear.

Dan did not stop her. Hermione was a very strong girl and he knew what this 'Harry' meant to her. Her non-stop rantings about the boy for the past four years made him almost familiar to Dan.

And so, Harry Potter closed his eyes, comparing those who gained their happiness when he lost blood to this amazing girl, who wanted to freely give away _her_ blood to save him.

_What did I do get you Hermione?_

* * *

Hermione learnt about the attack on Ollivander's when she read it in the next day's prophet. Harry had confirmed that he fought with Death Eaters inside the shop and killed three of them.

Hermione was aghast, but for Harry's sake. After the initial shock of seeing her best friend's condition had worn off, Hermione had been inconsolable. It wasn't until Harry had promised to keep some blood replenishing potion with himself at all times from then onwards, that she allowed him some rest. She had not left Harry's side for even a minute since then, except once for her trip to Diagon Alley.

The good news was that nobody had seen or reported the deaths on Harry Potter.

Dan and Jean Granger tried to talk Harry out of his stubbornness but Harry was adamant that he could heal himself. On Harry's insistence, Hermione had gone along with his invisibility cloak and bought some medicinal potions for him. Hermione had noticed that the cloak had lost a lot of its sheen, and took a mental note to ask Harry later.

Hermione did not know how and when exactly Harry became an expert on potions, but she was happy that they seemed to be working. Harry's shoulder was back to normal after only a single dose of skelegrow and his leg was actually growing day by day.

Hermione refused to leave Harry's side for the week that it took him to be back at his normal health. She took care of him like Jean did with her when she was small. Hermione bathed him, clothed him and applied salves on his ailing leg. She kept notes of all the potions he was taking and when.

Jean Granger noticed that Harry never complained, even when Hermione's nagging became too much, not even trying to keep his modesty in front of her. He seemed like a very well behaved boy in general, if he was as big a hero among Wizards as Hermione made him out to be.

She sighed…happy that Hermione found someone worthy of her affection…

* * *

A week later, Harry was finally well enough to walk by himself. So, it was natural that Hermione would still refuse to leave his side.

"Hermione, I am perfectly fine now…" Harry told her one day. "I think I should leave."

"Not before you tell me what happened to you?" Hermione insisted. "You are behaving differently Harry…you are so quiet...I want to know why."

Harry shook his head. "I already told you Hermione…After summer-"

"No Harry!" Hermione said, cutting him off. "I agreed with you earlier but how could I have known you will run off and pick up a fight with Death Eaters of all people…"

"But Hermione-"

"You have killed four men within a month, Harry. You could have been killed. You refuse to talk about it, you remain closed up, you remain aloof…How can you be so casual about it? What the hell happened in that graveyard?"

"But Hermione," Harry tried to reason with her. "Why don't you-"

"You came to me half-dead, have you forgotten? We are lucky that it was a simple reductor that hit you…had it been more, had it been something darker, you could have lost your leg permanently. How can you be so reckless?"

"Hermione, I know-"

"Now listen to me, Harry Potter," snapped Hermione. "I have been going spare over you for the past three weeks and all you can think about is your secrets…since when are you keeping secrets from me Harry?"

Harry kept quiet. He kept quiet until Hermione started crying. Then he pulled her close in a hug. He had no idea what to say to her. How could he tell her?

But Hermione was crying. And that made all the difference.

He allowed her to cry and spoke only when she ran out of tears. He did not let her leave his arms.

Slowly, he whispered in her ears. "Listen to me, Hermione…you are the only one I have in this world, aside from Sirius…you are the only person I trust with my life…you are the reason I came back…more than revenge, I came back for you…"

"Came back?" Hermione hiccupped in his shoulder.

"I am a time traveler, Hermione," said Harry, making small circles on her back. He could feel Hermione stiffen, but he knew he had to continue what he started. "I defeated Voldemort when I was eighteen years old and then, I fell in love with a woman who became everything to me…I married her when I was twenty-one…On the same night, she, along with her family and boyfriend killed me. They all stabbed me to death."

Hermione recoiled from him. He could see the naked shock in her eyes. She put a hand to her mouth and just kept staring at him. Harry too was unable to break the connection they had. "Harry..."

"I have changed Hermione...and now you know why. I will not stop until I am done with all those who wronged me...can you still be there for me?"

He did not know how much time had passed when she finally gave one single nod.

And that was it.

* * *

Harry was thinking about meeting Sirius. But he knew that he couldn't just show up at Grimmauld Place uninvited. Mostly, because he had no idea whether it was already under Fidelius or not. Since he already knew the secret from another lifetime, and he could still remember it, it was appropriate to conclude that the charm would exclude him from its effects, even if it was in place.

But the Order did not know about it. Hell, the Order was unaware that he knew about the Order.

So, Harry decided that Sirius would have to wait.

In the meanwhile, after donning his invisibilty cloak and taking out his new wand, Harry apparated to Ottery St. Catchpole. The burrow was only around a couple of hundred meters from where he appeared. A Homenum Revelio revealed that there was no one inside the house. So, he indeed was correct.

The Order was already formed and most probably, all the Weasleys were huddled up in Sirius's home.

Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to push away all the good memories associated with this place, the place he had once loved, and brought forth the torrents of rage that resided within him. He brought forth the images of that night when he was stabbed by his foster family, his _wife, _not once...but again and again and again.

A stream of fire erupted from his wand. Fiendfyre. Fire of the devil that ate everything…good or bad. Harry watched as the fire rose and gained the shape of a phoenix, descending upon the unusual house that was once so dear to him. He watched and enjoyed the burning heat until there wasn't even a shred of it left…and then, he pulled back the flames that were born from his rage back within him.

The burrow was no more.

* * *

Sirius Black, the newly freed godfather of Harry James Potter was having a hard time sitting still. He was currently attending one of the many pointless meetings of the newly reconvened group of Order of the Phoenix, Albus Dumbledore's pet organization.

The reason for his uneasiness was that Dumbledore had expressly forbidden him from meeting Harry…until at least his birthday, when he would be transported to Grimmauld Place for the rest of the summer. For some reason, the headmaster was hell bent on keeping Harry under the so called blood wards that he had raised on Lily's sister's house.

Sirius did not like it one bit but he had yet to learn disobeying the venerable teacher whom he had always looked up to.

Around him, a gaggle of red-haired Weasleys sat with their mouths pursed, a similarly somber look gracing all their faces. Apparently, the family had displeased someone enough to have their house put on fiendfyre. Snape had clearly refused any death eater's part in the crime, being as unhelpful as ever.

"Any information on who attacked the Death Eaters in Ollivander's, Severus?" Dumbledore was asking Snivellus, the slimy bastard he had recruited as a spy.

"No. The Dark Lord is…unwilling to part with that information," Snape drawled, as usual, trying to get a nomination for the worst spy ever.

"Very helpful, Snivellus…your skills require a round of applause," Sirius commented sarcastically. "Clap..Clap..Clap…"

"You are most welcome to try your hand at spying, Black…" replied Snape, "but we all know that the best you can do is keep your mouth shut…and there too, you are worse than your godson…"

"Keep Harry out of this, you son of a –"

"Silence!" Dumbledore shouted. "Sirius, stop goading Severus. And Severus, don't make comments on Harry. If only both of you could behave like adults…"

Sirius tuned the headmaster out. _If only_ James was alive today…even Order meetings were fun with him…oh how fondly Sirius remembered the days when James used to hang Snivellus by his ankles…of course, they got much worse in return from the snarky old bat…but it was all worth it with James.

Sirius was lost in his thoughts when he heard a loud hoot and looked around to discover Harry's owl, waiting patiently for him with a letter tied to her. Sirius could feel all eyes turn towards him, but he paid them no mind, as he took the offered piece of parchment from Hedwig.

"Dear Sirius,

Congratulations on getting out of the Ministry's clutches. It would be great if you pick me up from Leaky Cauldron as soon as soon as you get this note.

I strongly believe that it is high time that you prioritize me over Dumbledore.

Harry"

"What does Harry say, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked in the silent hall.

Sirius could only chuckle as he looked at the old man. As seconds passed, his chuckles turned into a full blown laughter.

"Your protection sucks, headmaster..." Sirius said, in between his peels of laughter.

* * *

_Thanks for reading..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter-6**

Harry looked down at the piece of paper Sirius had given him to read. It was the exact same paper Harry remembered from a lifetime ago. The familiar handwriting of Dumbledore said:

_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

He could already see the ghostly looking delipidated house but acted surprised enough for the sake of Sirius.

It was only an hour ago when Sirius had come to pick him up from the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had been immediately grabbed up in a bear hug as Sirius whooped with joy on seeing his godson after so long, obviously unaware that it had been much longer for Harry.

"Harry…," Sirius had said, clapping him on the back. "You have grown."

"But, you haven't…" Harry had replied.

To be truthful, Harry had planned to punch his godfather squarely on his face as soon as he saw him, for his idiotic and plainly irresponsible attitude in front of Bellatrix Lestrange and then conveniently falling to his doom behind that cursed gateway. But he couldn't bring himself to actually do it. Instead, he had returned Sirius's hug with just as much fervor.

Sirius motioned towards his ancestral home…"See Harry, this is the cursed place where I grew up…and where my father impregnated his sister..."

"I had wondered Sirius…,"replied Harry, "this explains your insanity quite well."

Sirius laughed. "Oh…I missed you. Come, everyone's waiting."

As Sirius opened the door and Harry stepped over the threshold, the sweet rotten smell of the ancient house assaulted his senses. Sirius pulled him inside towards the hall where he could hear loud discussions taking place. Though Harry had prepared himself for the onslaught, it was tough to see the number of red heads blurring his vision.

It was a testament of control that nobody knew about when Molly Weasley emerged from the kitchen and pulled him into a rib-cracking hug. "Harry dear, its so good to see you…"

Harry endured and even returned the hug when he noticed the subdued faces of the Weasleys. Afterwards, he even enjoyed giving them the hugs… "I am so sorry, Ron…I heard about the Burrow from Sirius."

Ron nodded his stupid head. "Tough luck, mate. I just wish I knew who it was..."

"Of course," Harry agreed. "What will you do if you found out?"

"I don't know...maybe I'll strangle the shit out of the bastard."

Harry smiled innocently. "Better yet, you should stab the man to death."

Ron looked at him with a confused face. "Yeah...maybe I should."

Though Harry truly felt bad for Arthur and the twins, he knew that they would have to unknowingly share some of his pain. Thus, he was a lot more sincere when they welcomed him.

After Moody and Tonks reintroduced themselves, Dumbledore made his way towards him.

"Harry, when did you leave your Aunt's house?" Dumbledore asked, coming straight to the point.

"Today," Harry lied, effortlessly.

Dumbledore nodded. "May I ask why?"

"No..."

Dumbledore looked surprised at another direct refusal from Harry. He hadn't forgotten Harry's brazen attitude on the night of the third task. But he wasn't in the mood to back down this time. "Why were you not at your Aunt's place, Harry?"

Harry sighed and took a long breath. This needed to be done exactly as he had practiced. "Let me be perfectly clear, sir. Since Sirius, who is my Godfather, is a free man now…that also makes him my legal guardian. Therefore, you have no right to ask me where, why, with whom, what…questions like these…"

Everyone looked at Harry as if he had grown one more head. Sirius thought Harry was providing some much needed entertainment and clapped him on his back…he was somewhat proud at seeing him standing up to Dumbledore like that.

"Harry," Mrs. Whorely spoke, "that's no way to talk to headmaster Dumbledore."

"Why? Have I insulted him in any way Mrs. Weasley? I am just saying that I seriously don't like old men who have a habit of meddling in affairs that they shouldn't be concerned about."

Dumbledore looked as if slapped. Even Sirius looked gob smacked now.

"Clearly…," butted Snape, "something has gotten loose in the boy's head."

"Thank you, sir," replied Harry, changing the direction of his ire. "But since you are nothing more than Dumbledore's pet dog, I would ask you to keep your opinions to yourself and refrain from commenting."

"You stupid little runt-"

"Wait, Severus.." Dumbledore said, putting up a hand. "Why are you angry with me, Harry? What have I done to gain your ire?"

Harry looked at the grandfatherly old man, who always tried to do the greater good…but in the process, always ended up harming Harry.

"Answer some of my questions, Headmaster…you'll yourself realize why I should be angry…" said Harry.

"Please…do ask Harry," said Dumbledore.

"You should answer only in a yes or no, Headmaster," said Harry and waited until Dumbledore nodded his head. "First, is Voldemort back?"

Ignoring how everyone in his precious group flinched, Dumbledore said, "Yes"

"Good. Did you tell me about it?"

"Harry-"

"Yes or no only, Headmaster," interrupted Harry. "Did you tell me about it?"

"No," said Dumbledore.

"My parents fought alongside you in this little group of yours…and I, myself, have faced Voldemort more than anyone else present here, save yourself. Is it true?"

"Yes," again said Dumbledore.

"Did you tell me about the Order?"

"No," replied Dumbledore.

"Your men were guarding me in Private Drive, correct?" asked Harry.

"Yes"

"Did you deem it necessary to tell me about it?"

"No"

"Now, I will tell you something I know…and believe me, you will not like me being so knowledgeable…The Power the Dark Lord knows not…ring any bells…"

The ashen face of Dumbledore wasn't something Harry could forget anytime soon. Everyone else was just confused, seeing that no one, not even Snape, knew that part of the prophecy.

"Yes, I know, Dumbledore, I know…," snapped Harry. "Did you fucking do anything to prepare me? Did you teach me anything? Any spell, curse, charm or a fucking potion? Yes or No? Tell me…or did you meant for me to die like a pig?"

Dumbledore was as quiet as if he had fallen through the Veil. He had no idea just how was this confrontation with Harry happening. He could not begin to comprehend how Harry knew what he knew…

"I have come to the conclusion that as far as I and my welfare is concerned, you are probably on par with Voldemort. You only care about your greater good, Headmaster…not me. So, please excuse me if I have lost my faith on you…"

With that, Harry turned towards Sirius. "Can you show me my room?"

* * *

"I think you were too hard on Dumbledore, Harry," Sirius said upstairs. "You came at him like a bull…out of nowhere."

"I know, Sirius," replied Harry. "But its better if he learns the error of his ways now than later…believe me, it will be a lot easier for him…"

And me…he silently added.

"And what was that cryptic line you spoke, Harry?" asked Sirius. "Dumbledore's face drained of all colour when you said it…and why did you say that he wanted you to die?"

"You don't need to know, Sirius," said Harry. "That's between me and Dumbledore."

"But you said something about dying?"

"It was just to scare the old man…"

"Promise me you won't die on me..."

Harry snorted. " You are one to speak...I won't die Sirius. Not anytime soon."

"Oookay then…" Sirius said, accepting Harry's words.

* * *

It wasn't long before Dumbledore called for another meeting with him, this time privately.

Harry knocked on the door, entered and promptly took the seat opposite the venerable old headmaster.

Dumbledore looked at him and kept silent for a long time. For the first time ever, Harry had seen Dumbledore at a loss for words. "How Harry," he said finally. "How can you know about the prophecy?"

Harry sighed. "Do you promise to treat me as an adult if I tell you?"

"You are not an adult, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him.

"Not in the body, agreed," said Harry, "but what makes an adult an adult, Headmaster? Experiences, if I am correct. And I am more experienced than the army of dunderheads you are cultivating."

Dumbledore smiled. "You talk like Severus."

"He may not be a role model but I don't doubt his abilities," said Harry, continuing when Dumbledore remained silent. "It was I who had to keep Voldemort from getting the Philosopher's stone when all your carefully laid traps failed to capture him…I had to defeat Tom Riddle and kill a fucking basilisk…I had to save Sirius from a hundred dementors…I had to kill Pettigrew…where were all the so called adults then?"

"You seem to be getting full of yourself, Harry," Dumbledore quipped.

Harry chuckled. "I said I _had_ to, Headmaster…these were the situations you put me in…I just don't know whether you were testing me or it was sheer incompetence on your part coupled with a healthy dose of negligence."

"Hhmmm….," Dumbledore sighed. "Whether you believe it or not, I am only a man Harry. I too make mistakes."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed. "But I am giving you a chance to correct those mistakes by being honest with me…you can at least try…I am frankly sick of things popping up out of nowhere because you forgot to tell me..."

"Like Prophecies?" Dumbledore asked, casually.

Harry kept quiet.

"Very well Harry…I don't know when but you have matured…that is more than I can say for Sirius," Dumbledore replied. "I agree to treat you like an adult from now onwards. Now tell me."

Harry nodded. "As you know, I have been having visions from the past year…"

Dumbledore nodded his head, leaning forward a little.

"…after Voldemort returned to a body, frequency of these visions increased. That's how I know about the prophecy…"

"That's impossible, Harry," Dumbledore refused to believe him. "Not even Voldemort knows that part of the prophecy…Why do you insist on lying to me?"

"He knows Headmaster, whether you believe me or not…"

"How can he know Harry," snapped Dumbledore. "There is no way…"

"He has taken the orb that was kept in the Department of Mysteries…"

Dumbledore gave him a look. "Not possible…I have stationed my guards in the Department…"

"As I said Headmaster, an army of dunderheads…they are pathetically easy to fool…especially for someone like Voldemort…"

Dumbledore took a deep breath…"So, you are saying that the orb is not in the Ministry anymore…"

"Correct"

"I must check this…if what you say is true…"

"…then it won't make the difference of an iota. Voldemort is already after me. The contents of the prophecy could have made the difference if he had somehow learnt them before attacking me when I was a child…but now, they are nothing…" Harry said, that it was important for the headmaster to trust him.

"It is not so easy Harry…you don't understand…the prophecy was one piece of information that kept Voldemort bound…he would have thought ten times before attacking you again…" Dumbledore argued. "I had also hoped to lure him outside his safe house…"

"He will come out eventually…until then, let him stew in his fear…trust me, he is deadly afraid of me now…"

"But Harry," Dumbledore said worriedly. "Voldemort will now double his efforts to get you…it is imperative to keep you safe, now more than ever."

"Let him…I will keep faith in you Headmaster, if you keep trust in me," said Harry, giving the shocked old man an earnest look.

Dumbledore nodded. "But I will still have to see it with my own eyes…"

"As you wish…" said Harry, as Dumbledore finally disappeared in a flash of flame.

Harry smirked. The pile of shit that he had just served Dumbledore was such a lie that even Dumbledore would have a hard time separating truth from lies…

* * *

_Flashback_

_On level nine of The Ministry of Magic, there was a department known as the Department of Mysteries. This particular department was also peculiar, just like its name. It consisted of many rooms, and each one held certain long forgotten secrets of the Wizarding world, that were best left alone. Whether it be Death Room, Time Room or the Hall of Prophecies._

_A hooded figure was walking in the above mentioned Hall of Prophecy, looking for a particular row…Row 97._

_The figure was Harry Potter and it had taken him a great deal of stealth to reach there undetected. He rushed between the long rows of glowing mysterious orbs…that contained mysteries of the past and the future, counting on his luck on not to be found._

_"Eighty four…eighty five…...ninety six...ninety seven..."_

_Finally, a little way down row ninety seven, he found what he was looking for._

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_And (?)Harry Potter_

_Quickly taking the orb in his hand, he tucked it away in his robes. He knew what he had to do. _

* * *

Harry had promptly sent the orb to the Dark Lord along with a note, a day before Sirius had picked him up from the Leaky Cauldron.

"Dear Voldemort,

I heard you were interested in this little piece of magic. Since I don't remember your birthday, consider this as a gift well in advance. After all, you won't be able to celebrate it for much longer.

I ask you to observe some penance for all the misdeeds you have committed before I was chosen and sent to earth in order to give you my blessing in the form of a rebound killing curse. I feel it is my duty to relieve you of this mortal plane once and for all the next time we meet. I assure you that it will be very painful. You are free to hide in Lucius's pants until then.

Your Death

Harry Potter"

* * *

_Hope you all enjoyed the conversation between Albus and Harry. It had always bugged me that the prophecy served no real purpose, save killing Sirius…How the hell can an all-powerful self-declared Dark Lord not get past guards like Arthur Weasley for an year…Thanks for reading and please review!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter-7**

The Dark Lord read and reread the letter Harry Potter had sent him along with the prophecy that had forced him to live like a worm for the past fourteen years. The boy was _something_…he had to agree.

Voldemort had longed to learn the complete prophecy for quite some time now and he was sure that Dumbledore would stop him at any cost. But Harry Potter…Harry Potter, the not-quite-fifteen-year old boy was so confident in his abilities to 'vanquish' him that he had literally gift wrapped the prophecy for him and sent it away by a common post owl, no doubt rented from Diagon Alley.

If Voldemort was true with himself, he would admit that after a very long time, he was beginning to feel stirrings of an emotion he had long forgotten…fear. He knew that there was a popular perception about him that Albus Dumbledore was the only one he was afraid of…he snorted…_the old fool was too weak to frighten someone like Voldemort_…

But he had seen the anger…no, _rage_…in the boy's eyes. He had seen him use the killing curse on Wormtail…_killing_ _curse, the curse his old mentor abhorred_…he had seen that his eyes were shining like green fire.

Barty Crouch's failed mission to get him Ollivander told him the same story once again. Potter had shamelessly killed three of his new recruits that day…._and Barty had to run away like a coward_…he was still nursing his ruined eye.

And now, the prophecy in his hands told him that Voldemort himself was the one who had marked the boy his equal…Had he not gone to the Potter's that day…Had he listened to that mudblood and spared the boy…the wizarding world would have been his by now…

_The Power the Dark Lord knows not…_

Oh how he longed to strangle Severus Snape, his loyal Death Eater, with his bare hands…but Severus was a useful servant, one he could always count on, and he _was_ doing his duty at the time…the damn things are self-fulfilling anyway…

Never mind…but what Voldemort failed to grasp was the knowledge Harry Potter had gained in such a small time…after all, the boy had been in the wizarding world for only four years now…and by all accounts of Severus and Barty, when he was masquerading as Moody, Harry Potter was a mediocre good for nothing brat with false hopes of grandeur. But no Mediocre boy could learn to _cast_ the killing curse in his fourth year…and after watching Barty's memories of his fight, it was clear that Potter still knew more than he let on…

But the question remained how?

What could be that power that Voldemort did not know?

He tried to expand that train of thought and continued…Death was the greatest power Voldemort could think of…and he knew perfectly well how to cast the killing curse. What power could be more than granting Death to an individual?

_Granting Death to an individual…Granting Death to an individual…Granting Death to an individual…_

Voldemort abruptly stood up.

_Could it be…reversing the death of an individual…it seemed to be the only power I have never known…but how?_

Voldemort's mind went back to that night in the graveyard…when Potter had so casually addressed him…he had been angry but not surprised. It was as if Potter already knew that he was-

Voldemort's eyes widened in realization.

Potter _did_ know. Potter's reaction was just too fast…the whole point on trusting Wormtail to capture Potter was the element of surprise that he had on his side…but since Potter already knew what was about to happen, he had easily disposed of Wormtail.

That could only mean something Voldemort could only dream about…_time travel._ It was the only logical conclusion that could be made…and it explained Potter's knowledge. Admittedly, a leap of faith on his part, but it all fit...and it was the power he had never known.

The brat was pretending to be fifteen-year-old…but he was much older…how much, was anyone's guess.

So that meant…that Voldemort had already killed him once…and Potter had somehow found a way to return…

Voldemort snarled angrily…he now knew he could kill Potter; if he had done it once, nothing stopped him from killing him again…but what good was it if the boy could just reverse the time and come back to haunt him…how could he fight a foe who had found a better way to immortality than he ever did…

He needed to find a way, so that he could kill Potter and his death remained permanent…

And with that, Voldemort buried himself in the darkest tomes he could find on time travel and Death…

* * *

Harry Potter, in the meanwhile, was fine tuning his next plan of action. He was getting restless being holed up in Grimmauld Place all day…he could of course go wherever he wanted but there would be too many questions and Harry would be without any answers. Also, it was getting difficult to maintain focus on the potion he was secretly brewing in his room. It was the key to what he was planning...

Harry had frankly no idea why he felt like sending that prophecy to Voldemort other than getting a kick for himself...but it had somehow felt like a voice was whispering in his year. Like he just had to do it...

Since the day Harry was back at Sirius' place, he had tried to cultivate a habit of observation. He observed the Weasleys, their habits, their likes and dislikes. He already knew everything about Ron, but not much about the others. He couldn't be sure about Ginny because he had no idea how much of her true self she had shown him in their five years of dating.

For example, he now knew that Molly Weasley was an early riser. She liked to start and end her day with a cup of tea, while sitting alone and getting lost in her thoughts. Most probably the thoughts of getting rich one day. After her tea, she went to the bedrooms of all her children one by one and checked on them. Harry had no idea how could such a doting mother be a murderous monster when it came to him.

He also noticed the subtle indications she gave to encourage Ginny to pursue him…a slight push, a little smile, a wink…

While preparing food, she did not mind slipping a little of this or a little of that in her dishes. If a member of the Order was angry, a few drops of calming drought weren't a bad idea…if someone was upset, why not use a little cheering potion? This little tidbit had made Harry ill and from then onwards, he had begun sending Kreacher to get him food from a nearby food outlet.

_Kreacher_…

Kreacher was extraordinarily well mannered these days.

It had begun one day when he had asked Sirius to order the maniacal little elf to sit and talk to Harry until he allowed him to leave. Sirius was rather curious at the topic of conversation but Harry had pushed him out of the room and then cast a silencing charm to prevent any eaves-dropping.

"Kreacher…" Harry had just begun when Kreacher started ranting about him being a 'worthless half-blood poop of some maggot-eating mudblood'…

He had not been able to stop himself from kicking the fucked up elf who was insulting his mother. He had then proceeded to bodily pick him and hold him in the air as the angry elf tried to get free… "Now listen, you stupid little shit…I know your dear master Regulus gave you a task before dying…"

Kreacher had become still on hearing this.

"…and I am the only one who could help you finish it."

"You know?..." Kreacher had asked with shining eyes, and Harry finally put him down.

"Yes," he had said, "and I will destroy that locket only if you listen to me and obey my orders…you should think of me as your de-facto master, since Sirius isn't interested in dealing with you himself…remember if you insult me, my mother or my family one more time, if you listened to that bint's portrait or if you discussed anything I tell you with anyone, I will cut of your head and flush it in a muggle toilet….and your master Regulus's last wish would remain a wish forever…"

To Harry's good luck, Kreacher had understood quiet well the first time itself and disappeared with a "Yes, Master"

Afterwards, Sirius had looked oddly jealous at the respect Harry was being shown, and Harry had smirked at his Godfather.

There was a reason Harry had to take Kreacher under his control. He had neither forgotten Regulus' dark story nor the part where all the protections set by Voldemort himself were easily bypassed by Kreacher. Kreacher could take him anywhere he wanted and he had just such a place in mind…

One night, when all had gone to sleep, and Molly Weasley was making her last tea of the day, Harry slipped a little sleeping potion in her beverage with the help of Kreacher. He waited until the woman had started snoring on her chair and then levitated her to his bedroom. After putting a silencing charm on the room, he woke her up.

As Molly opened her eyes and looked around groggily, she was naturally confused to find herself in Harry's room. "Harry dear," she said, trying to stand up but failing, "I am so sorry. I don't know how I came to sleep in your room."

"I brought you here…" Harry replied, taking a chair for himself.

"You?", asked Molly. "Why?"

"I am going to punish you for what you did to me," Harry answered casually.

Molly surely looked confused, but not afraid. Harry was pretty sure that she would be feeling quite afraid really soon…

"Punish me? But what did I do to you, young man?"

Harry sighed. "That will remain a mystery to you…I am afraid…at least until you die."

"Die…?" There it was, a little bit of fear.

"Yes Molly," Harry replied with a deadly smile. "I am going to make sure that you die as painfully as I did…"

"I don't understand…" said Molly.

But perhaps she had seen the truth in his eyes or perhaps something in his demeanor was screaming for her blood, because the next moment, she jumped up and tried to tackle Harry to the ground.

Harry was ready though. "Stupefy," was all he said as the heavy woman slumped down.

"Kreacher," he called and the elf appeared at his side. "Can you still feel the connection?"

Kreacher nodded.

"Good. Then, take us to her." Harry instructed.

* * *

Azkaban, the Wizarding Prison, was located on a heavily guarded island. The guards though weren't normal folk. They consisted of a hundred odd dementors who were nothing more than a breed of soul sucking monsters that liked to feed on one's happy emotions in the absence of a proper meal.

The island was protected by wards against normal modes of travel like apparition and portkey, but since no human could keep himself sane if kept in constant contact of the above mentioned monsters, no aurors were stationed anywhere near Azkaban. The duties of taking what little care the prisoners of Azkaban required were assigned to a group of house-elves who had no-where else to go and were in need of a master.

In case of an attack or if they find an unauthorized entry, it was the elves who were to raise the alarm and alert the ministry.

The aurors visited only when a new prisoner arrived or in a very rare event, when someone was released. It was rare, because only the most hardened criminals were placed in Azkaban. The Ministry would not place a petty thief in there…for such crimes, they had holding cells in the Ministry itself.

When a prisoner arrived, they usually begged for mercy for the first few _hours_…afterwards, when no happy memories were left, they used to cry, shout and laugh…and became quite insane in general. The biting cold only added to their misery.

One such miserable prisoner who had a habit of cackling incessantly at odd times, was Bellatrix Lestrange. She was a death eater, and a cousin of Sirius Black, who had put Neville Longbottom's parents to the Permament Mental Disabilities Ward of St. Mungos by casting the cruciatus curse on them for an extended amount of time.

Since Bellatrix was a Black by birth, Kreacher could sense her presence and apparate to her.

This little loophole was something Harry could not understand how everyone had missed. When he had come to Azkaban for the first time as an auror, he had made a list of ways one could escape from the dreaded prison. This particular method topped them all…

As Harry appeared with Kreacher and Molly inside Bellatrix's cell, Bellatrix slowly turned around to look at them from her position at the cell's metal gate.

Harry knew he could not cast any spell in here, lest someone discovered his presence and rung the alarm. So, he allowed Kreacher to take the lead.

"Miss Bella…" said Kreacher a bit emotionally.

Bellatrix did not react.

Harry took out the Potion from his pocket and gave it to Kreacher. Kreacher slowly moved towards Bellatrix and very slowly picked one of her hairs…Bellatrix still did not react, just kept looking at them.

Keeping an eye on the extremely volatile witch, Harry took the now ready polyjuice potion and force fed it to Molly Weasley's still form lying at his feet. The potion was a modified version by future Hermione Granger herself, which increased the effects from an hour to about three days. He also took out a capsule he had acquired from a shoddy muggleborn in Knockturn Alley and again fed it to Molly.

As the witch's form changed and another Bellatrix appeared in the cell, the real Bellatrix finally gave a reaction…she cackled madly. "BELLABELLABELLLA…"

Ignoring her and taking a deep breath, Harry took out his wand and motioned for Kreacher to grab him and the real Bellatrix. He quickly performed a switching spell on the clothes of both the witches, just as Kreacher apparated them away.

Sensing the spell, a house-elf appeared with a pop but she found nothing except a sleeping Bellatrix Lestrange.

Molly Weasley would wake up soon enough and realize that she was in Azkaban. She would suffer for a period of close to sixty hours…living her worst fears…one after another. She would beg and plead and cry her innocence but there would be no one to listen. The other inmates would only laugh at her tears.

After sixty hours, the cyanide capsule in her stomach would have dissolved completely. She would die a painful death but since polyjuice becomes permanent if the drinker died before the effects wore off, nobody would know…except Harry Potter.

Contrary to his expectations, Harry Potter would not feel happy at her death…but at least he had kept his word, to himself.

Though he was beginning to realize that Revenge was always sour…never sweet.

* * *

_Thanks for reading…Review!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: This Chapter will move backwards._

* * *

**Chapter-8**

_The Day Harry Turned Fifteen And Arthur Wished Him_

Arthur Weasley slowly got up from his bed and moved towards the door to his room.

Though he had been unable to sleep for the past three nights and was extremely tired, Arthur felt it necessary to check on his children in the absence of his wife. Thankfully, all of them were asleep, except Ginny. Arthur kissed all of their foreheads just like Molly did and hugged poor Ginny as she fell down in his lap, unable to control her tears. It was nearly impossible but he kept a tight lid on his own emotions…he allowed himself that luxury only inside his own room, when he was alone.

He silently ate what Harry gave him and patiently waited for the owl carrying the morning newspaper to receive _any_ news, good or bad.

Ruffling through the pages in a hurry he seldom found himself in, Arthur almost lost himself then and there when yet again, he found no mention of his wife inside those pages.

He remembered only when Sirius came downstairs and took Harry in a hug and clapped him on the back, "Happy Birthday Harry..."

Sighing at his own forgetfulness, Arthur got up and moved towards Harry. "I am sorry son...I forgot. Happy Birthday."

"Don't worry, Mr. Weasley. I understand...I myself had forgotten. After Mrs. Weasley..."

Arthur gave Harry a wobbly smile and returned to his newspaper, marvelling at what a great young lad Harry was...the boy's eyes had almost watered at the mere mention of Molly. He almost looked...guilty...but it was definitely not his fault that it was his birthday or that Molly was still missing.

_Silly Noble Boy..._

A little while later, Arthur was unable to understand the pang he felt when he read the headlines proclaiming Bellatrix Lestrange's death in Azkaban. But like everything else, he ignored it in search of Molly…

* * *

_Sixty Hours Before Arthur Wished Harry_

Molly Weasley was missing.

The members of Order of the Phoenix, and all the children, sat in the hall of 12 Grimmauld Place as they discussed their wild theories and tried to come up with what could have happened; while Albus Dumbledore, their leader and the most sensible of them all, stood in a corner with Severus Snape inside a bubble of silencing charm.

As soon as Arthur was home, he was apprised by Sirius and Remus of Molly's absence since morning. Surely, she'd return in a few hours from wherever she had gone, they had thought. When morning turned to noon and noon to evening, the children had begun to worry for their mother. Soon enough, Sirius had lost his patience and called Albus Dumbledore and a few others who could help.

It was now that almost everyone was gathered in the hall when Arthur was finding it difficult to keep himself together. Only one thing came to his mind and that was the recent resurrection of Voldemort and his growing insurgent activities. If Molly's disappearance had anything to do with the dark lord…

Arthur shuddered to even contemplate such a situation.

He saw Fred and George, looking at each other without a trace of humour in their eyes; and Ginny, his little daughter, as she cried heavily. Their mother never went anywhere without informing them. Nymphadora Tonks was trying to comfort her, along with Harry Potter.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones were murmuring among themselves, while Sirius Black was desperately trying to make a point in front of Remus Lupin. They were whispering to each other silently.

"Don't worry Ginny…Dumbledore will surely find Mrs. Weasley…" Arthur heard Harry saying as he consoled poor Ginny by rubbing her back.

Dumbledore, for his part, was taking his time with Severus. Arthur tried to get a hint of…of _anything_…from Snape's passive face but there was nothing at all except his usual sneer, which made him even more apprehensive than he already was…but why his _Molly_ of all people?

Dumbledore dispersed the silent bubble after some long minutes and finally came back to address the patiently waiting room. "Everyone…please pay attention…" he called. "As I have determined from Severus, we can positively rule out any involvement of death eaters in the case of Molly's disappearance."

Arthur, along with everyone else, breathed a sigh of relief.

"However," continued Dumbledore, "this leads us to conclude that either Molly has left the house on her own volition…though we have no idea why…or someone amongst us is a traitor and that person is unknown to Severus…"

At once, pandemonium broke out as the headmaster's silent-up-until-then audience began shouting all at once.

"What…?"

"No way…"

"A traitor in our ranks…"

Everyone started pointing at each other, unable to get the concept down their throats. If indeed there was a traitor, how were they supposed to trust anyone in the Order with their lives and secrets in the first place. Order, in itself, was an illegal vigilante organization they were a part of. If someone were to out them as its members, their careers would be in jeopardy, along with their lives.

"I vote for Snape…" Sirius said suddenly, taking everyone's attention on himself effortlessly, just as Remus began massaging his temple. "How can we be sure that he isn't lying?"

Severus Snape, of course, was livid if his death glare was any indication to go by. "Your opinion is of no consequence, mutt."

"I second Sirius…" Harry interjected, frowning at the Potions master. "He calls himself a spy…that practically means being a traitor…what if he's spying on _us_…"

"Harry…please," said Dumbledore. "I trust Severus with my life."

"But he's a death eater," argued Fred, a cool anger in his eyes. "What stops him from selling us to you-know-who?"

"Mr. Weasley, as I said I trust-"

"Doesn't matter shit to us Dumbledore," snapped George on his twin's behalf.

"George..." Arthur shouted, shocked. "You have no right to talk back to Dumbledore like that."

"No Arthur," Dumbledore said, raising his hands up in a placating gesture. "Your children are worried about their mother…I do not take any offense."

Arthur had never seen Fred and George wearing anything but identical smiles on their faces. Even when faced with the hardest of times, when the Weasley household had hit rock bottom, the twins had never let their anger or sadness show. But for the first time, Arthur was seeing them scowl…at him no less. The fear of losing their mother had hit them hard.

"Nevertheless," butted Sirius, once again, "we cannot trust our lives on your trust alone Headmaster. Not again…"

Dumbledore looked at him with a genuinely hurt expression. It seemed that Lord Black had not forgotten his illegal incarceration as much as he'd like to let everyone believe…

"Very well," sighed Dumbledore, "I am afraid that the distrust on Severus should be cleared once and for all…"

Snape looked up and pursed his lips, glaring hatefully at the headmaster.

"Severus, only if you agree…" said Dumbledore.

Snape, though unhappy, nodded with a jerk of his head. He then proceeded to take out his wand and swore, "_I, Severus Snape, swear on my magic that I am not in possession of any knowledge related to Molly Weasley's disappearance. So mote it be._ Lumos."

Since Snape's wand lit, Sirius kept his mouth shut for once.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "when that's out of the way-"

"Wait, Headmaster," interrupted Snape, "It only seems just that if _I _have to prove my innocence then everybody does…"

"Ah," Harry said, standing up from his position. "To be perfectly honest with you Sir, we are not branded by a madman…unlike you."

"Keep your mouth shut, Potter" Severus spat, himself getting to his feet, as Remus once again rubbed his temples.

"Harry will speak as much as he likes, Snivellus. You are no one to tell my godson what to do…" said Sirius coolly.

"Enough!" thundered Dumbledore, "Sirius, we are indebted to you for letting us use your house…but your quarrel with Severus has gone too far. Please keep in mind that he is perhaps the most valuable asset on our side against Voldemort. And Severus, one oath is enough for the day. Instead of wasting valuable time, it would be better if we conduct a search for Molly…"

"I agree, Headmaster…" said Remus, quickly getting up from his seat. "I think we should begin with the Burrow…I mean, where the Burrow _was_…She was missing her home too much after what happened."

"Good idea, Remus," agreed Dumbledore. "You should go there and take Arthur with you. Also, meet any relatives she might visit…I'll ask Minerva to search in St. Mungos…it is something we would have to do…Severus, please do try and meet with Voldemort and apprise him of the situation, see if he gives away any reaction…and I'll myself go to Amelia…we will need more hands to conduct a proper search."

Dumbledore then looked at the younger Weasleys. "Children, don't worry and hope for the best. And Harry, in Molly's absence, can I impose upon you to take Kreacher's help and feed all your friends? Of late, he seems to be very cordial towards you."

Harry gave the old man a smile and nodded. "Of course, Headmaster. I really hope we find Mrs. Weasley."

"We will try our best, my boy. We will try our best."

Having little hope in his heart, Arthur looked towards Remus and moved towards the floo, wondering if he'll ever see his wife again.

Arthur entirely missed the satisfaction in Harry Potter's eyes and a slight smile on the corner of his lips.

* * *

_Sixty-Eight Hours Before Arthur Wished Harry_

Arthur Weasely rubbed his eyes and took a huge yawn. He was blissfully unaware of the fact that his life was about to change in its entirety from that day onwards. Taking his own sweet time to sit up, he picked up his wand from his bedside to cast a _Tempus_ charm. Raising his eyebrows in alarm, he jumped up to his feet and ran towards the bathroom.

He was late for work, too late in fact to make a full day out of it.

_Great. Another reason for Johnson to kick my butt._

Where was Molly? He asked himself in his hurry. His wife was the one who always woke him up, along with a cup of tea and a morning kiss, for as long as he could remember…what made her break routine? But he let that thought pass as he began his morning ablutions.

Downstairs, he found Harry preparing breakfast for everyone and took a seat. "Where's Molly, Harry?"

"Don't know, Mr. Weasley," said Harry, while pouring him a glass of juice. "I figured she was taking a rest today."

Arthur turned towards Ron, who was filling his mouth with Omelette and toast without a care in the world and shook his head. "Breakfast isn't running away, Ron."

Ron nodded his head and gulped forcefully. "It isn't always that Harry cooks, Dad. Did a great job too."

Arthur smiled. "Still, keep it slow. Now, where's your mother?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno…maybe she went for shopping. Where's Ginny? Might know somethin'."

"Sleeping," said Harry from the kitchen counter. "I went to wake her up but she said she was up till late last night."

Arthur nodded and stood up, grabbing a handful of toast in his hands. "Harry, do tell Molly to floo me when she comes back from wherever she is."

"Sure, I will." said Harry.

Arthur then went to deal with Johnson, trusting his wife's capabilities to keep herself safe and whole. He forgot about Molly until he returned in the evening when Sirius called him, only to find a crowd full of somber faces.

* * *

_Seventy Six Hours Before Arthur Wished Harry_

Gringotts, though a bank catering to the needs of Wizards, was managed by a gold-loving breed of vicious creatures who were called Goblins. The bank and its tellers were creepy enough during daylight hours but at nighttime, they were no less frightening than the haunting stories of muggle fantasy books. The whispers of small insects and pests only added to the already creepy atmosphere.

But according to one Harry Potter, it was a plus that the bank remained open twenty-four-hours, for he had an escaped Azkaban convict moving alongside him under the imperius curse.

Harry really wasn't proud of the liberal use of unforgivables he was making, but he sure as hell knew that it was much better than an escape on the back of a blind dragon.

Getting to the nearest teller who had not given any indication of being surprised on seeing the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, with the poster boy of Wizarding World no less, Harry mentally asked Bellatrix to ask for a visit to her vault.

"Do you have the keys, Ms. Lestrange?" the teller asked.

"No…my blood should suffice." Bellatrix replied on Harry's command.

The teller turned his head towards him and gave Harry a penetrating gaze. Harry willed himself to keep a passive expression. "Very Well…Griphook shall take you to your vault," he finally told Bellatrix, as Harry released an involuntary breathe.

Harry swallowed at seeing Griphook…the nasty goblin who had double crossed him and met his dead end not three years ago…according to his original timeline. By some twist of fate…he was again being taken to the same vault by the same goblin.

He really hoped to avoid causing any scene this time.

As Harry, Bellatrix and Griphook took their seats in the cart ride that lead to the inner chambers of the bank, the most secured vaults of Gringotts, Harry covertly pulled out his wand and trained it on Bellatrix's side…it was a necessary precaution in view of The Thief's Downfall – the magical waterfall which removed the effects of any spells, potions or curses in order to alert the goblins of any imposters – that they were sure to pass through…

Sure enough, as the cart zoomed through the waterfall, Bellatrix came back to her senses; but only for a second before Harry had reapplied the curse on her, though that one second was enough for the crazy bitch to give Harry a headache…she was fighting Harry's will…and it felt like a caged Bull was trying to get free…

But Harry did not relent.

It seemed that her mind had begun to grasp that she was no more within the reach of dementors, and there was an urgent need to regain her freedom, now when she had the chance. Harry was surprised when he felt her thin elbow connect with his ribs as he let out a grunt, but before the goblin could even turn to look at them, he snapped the iron bars of his unbreakable will on Bellatrix's feeble mind and she withdrew, as if burnt…

Griphook guided them through the dragon with the help of the clankers and Harry vowed to help the beast somehow in the future. Finally they were outside the large vault.

Griphook gave Bellatrix a dagger and asked her to put some of her blood on the doorway. On Harry's instruction, Bellatrix made a deep gash on her hand and touched the door. The goblin eyed the insane witch but kept quiet, as the door opened to reveal mounds of gold and silver, along with treasures amassed by the generations of Lestranges in their years of bigotry.

Harry had eyes only for one innocent looking cup.

He forced Bellatrix to enter the vault, undeterred by the _Gemino_ and _Flagrante_ curses, and reach out for the cup. As she touched an object, it would multiply itself and burn her skin wherever it touched. Harry felt her pain not once, but every time she burnt herself on the sea of objects he forced her to wade through, and a kind of dark happiness blossomed within himself. He had no idea that he hated the bitch _that_ much before that night.

Bellatrix's blistered and bruised form took the cup from the top shelf with the help of a silver cane and slowly waddled back to him. He offered the small pouch, which he now kept with himself all the time, to her and she allowed the horcrux to fall in it.

Harry noticed the slight moisture in the bitch's eyes and knew that she was pleading. Pleading for her life. If he was a different Harry Potter, he wouldn't have hesitated to give her another chance…but that Harry Potter was long dead.

He hardened his eyes and ordered Bellatrix to move back inside the vault, and turned towards Griphook, who was eying both of them with scorn. It was probably clear to the goblin by now that what exactly was happening in front of his eyes, but Harry was encouraged by his silence.

"She will remain within…" said Harry.

Griphook's eyes widened and he bared his teeth, until Harry continued.

"…of course, you get this very special cup of Helga Hufflepuff when I am done with it."

Needless to say, the greed of the goblin won over the morality of his actions. Harry could see the _lust_ in his eyes for the unique artefact.

Still, for the cause of plausible deniability, he made a statement from Bellatrix's mouth. "I will…stay here…in my vault. Please close the door," she said tonelessly.

Harry knew that Bellatrix's death would anyway become the front page news in a couple of days. She was supposed to die sooner or later and it really wasn't necessary to take her with him, only to worry about her later…

He told himself that she actually deserved much worse and he was infact doing her a favor…

Griphook did as he was told and moved to close the door. Harry saw the shrunken yet beautiful face of Bellatrix one last time and decided to release his curse just before she fully disappeared.

It would take him a long time to forget the sheer terror and rage he saw in those blue eyes, all but for a moment. Thus, Harry Potter left Gringotts…as Bellatrix Lestrange died a lonely and painful death by a couple of curses cast by her own wand…she screamed and her screams echoed until her flesh burned to dust, and only bones remained.

It would be a very long time before her skeleton would be found in the very same vault.

* * *

_Thanks for Reading. Review!_


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: _This is Chapter 9 of this story. A month ago, I had put another chapter but immediately took it down after some...vocal suggestions of Harry deserving a fate reserved for a mad dog. To those who read it, Forget that chapter. It was a nightmare Harry had. Enjoy._

* * *

**Chapter-9**

_Dear Hermione,_

_I am sorry for not replying earlier but its not easy being here anymore or doing anything at all. I guess taking up the parchment and quill was too much an effort for my lazy arse._

_There's still no news of Mum and all of us fear the worst but no one is putting it into words or else, it might make this nightmare a little too real for our family to function. You see, Mum was the one who kept all of us fools in a binding, she was our thread, and that binding is under too much pressure of being torn apart. I am very afraid and you are the only one I am comfortable with saying this._

_I really wish you had excepted the invitation to spend the rest of the summer here with us. It could have been a little bearable with you at our side but..._

_Dad is ALWAYS working at the Ministry these days, Bill and Charlie showed up for a day but returned, I don't care what hole Percy is lying under, the twins are cooped up in their room and Ginny has turned into a bloody Ghost who is haunting this already miserable place._

_You asked about Harry. He is fine, but we don't spend much of our time together these days. For some reason, he has taken an insane interest in potions. He keeps brewing Merlin knows What day after day in his room and there's no one to put a stop to it. Sirius is about as opposite to Mum in that sense as one could be. He wouldn't stop Harry from jumping off a building without a broom if Harry just asked him to shut up. He'll just shake his head and jump after him._

_I asked Harry once but all he says is that OWLs are coming. As if!_

_I am alone Hermione. I don't know anymore what goes on in his head. If you have any insight, do tell._

_I hope to see you soon._

_Yours_

_Ron_

Hermione sighed and reread the letter.

She sighed again.

* * *

Harry Potter was sitting on his bed, eyes closed, and doing absolutely nothing.

Or rather, he was _trying _to do absolutely nothing.

Clearing his mind, some would say.

It wasn't long before a growl escaped his lips and he opened his emerald eyes to glare at the offending potion boiling by his bedside, as if it would suddenly bow down to his will and begin to brew itself as it _should._

It had taken a long time for Harry to build up some defences for his overworked mind even after Voldemort's death. Occlumency was hard. It didn't stop him from trying and ultimately succeeding, but he found it extremely inconvenient that he was supposed to do all the hard work once again. Moreover, his study in the subtle magic of Potions wasn't going as well as he'd have liked.

For the past few days, Harry found himself worrying over the fate of a certain ring lying in a certain village holding the part soul of a certain madman. For all Harry enjoyed taunting Voldemort with his missives, he knew he was no Albus Dumbledore and even then, he hadn't forgotten the blackened hand of the venerable old headmaster.

Moreover, since he wasn't a horcrux anymore, there was complete and utter silence on the other end of his now broken link with the Dark Lord. Harry would admit that sometimes, that link had helped him a little too much in the past by giving him a front row seat to Voldemort's innermost thoughts. But now, he had absolutely no idea whatsoever how the hell the megalomaniac was taking his meddling of history. Hopefully, with too much overconfidence and a dash of idiocy.

He was trying to come up with something that would allow him to bypass Tom Riddle's defences without the help of Dumbledore but even after racking up his brain inside out, all he could come up with was Fiendfyre.

That method came with a couple of problems though. One, Gaunt Place was situated in a muggle town. He had no hope of muggles not noticing huge dragons made of fire eating everything in their path. That would raise a whole pit of worms he desperately wanted to avoid at the time.

But more importantly, and Harry was afraid to admit even to himself, he just wanted to keep the stone intact. He was very well aware that the Resurrection Stone held no more mythical powers, evident by the fact that his very own cloak worked barely above a disillusionment charm these days, but the stone held a special place for him. It was something that connected him to his doomed past. He did not want to let it go, no matter how childish the urge felt, even to himself.

And so, he was trying to come up with something before the summer ended and he was stuck at the castle. Though, he was beginning to have an idea around _that _problem.

Vanishing the incomplete and purely wrong potion, he jumped up from his bed just as Sirius came barrelling into his room. Behind him, a disgruntled house elf was hopping on one leg frothing from his mouth.

"Sirius, what did you do to him?" Harry snapped irritably.

Sirius made slicing motions at his neck as he made himself comfortable on the space Harry had vacated moments ago. "I did not do this...I just washed his filthy mouth."

Harry glared at his Godfather. Sirius had found nothing to do with himself and the childish man had decided to start a prank war with none other than the demented house elf of the Blacks. "Reverse it."

To be fair, Sirius had expressly ordered Kreacher to put his head to good use and return the favour as creatively as he could, albeit in a non-lethal fashion.

They were coming to his room at least twice a day in various states of distress just for him to snap on one or the other and end their fight. It was getting to Harry even though initially, he was of the mind that they both deserved each other. He was beginning to suspect that more than annoying Kreacher, it was Sirius' way of getting some time with his one and only godson. Now that he was free, Sirius had let go of his fear of Azkaban and was trying to catch up for the lost time away from Harry.

Sirius waved his wand and immediately, Kreacher's leg grew up and all the soap in his mouth vanished. "Stupid blood-traiter master..."

Harry sighed. He had modified his orders to let the elf bad mouth Sirius when his Godfather had refused to listen to him and take up another hobby, instead of making the miserable old elf more so.

"Kreacher, please start preparing for dinner. Sirius will not disturb you at least for today."

Kreacher vanished from the sight but not before snapping his fingers and dropping a bucket full of tar like substance on a grinning Sirius's head and ruining Harry's bed.

Harry groaned.

Sirius immediately took out his wand and called, "Kre-"

"Sirius, STOP! That's enough."

"But that _thing_-"

"- did what you asked him to do."

Sirius sagged at that and allowed Harry to point his wand at him. It took a while but Harry was able to remove the tar with only minimal hair loss from his godfather's body.

"What the hell is your problem with him Sirius? I haven't seen you like that with anyone else, not even Dobby."

Sirius rounded on him and glared. "Dobby is ten times the – elf – that _thing _is."

"Oh come on! So he spanked you when you were a child. Big deal. I lived with the Dursleys you idiot."

Sirius spluttered, not in the least bothered by Harry's tone. "Ho-how the hell d-do you know about that?"

Harry grinned evilly. "So he really _did _spank you..."

It was Sirius' turn to groan. "You corrupt bastard."

Harry laughed and it was only a matter of time before Sirius joined him.

If there was one thing he liked about coming back to life, it was Sirius and his idiocy. Oh how he had missed the shaggy old dog last time...

After a while, they were both sitting up lost in their thoughts when Harry suddenly asked, "Sirius, you never told me..."

"What?"

"You know, my parents were quite young when they got married...were you also...seeing someone at the time?"

Harry had been thinking that he hadn't spent as much time with his godfather as he'd have liked last time. And even out of that precious little time, it was always about his problems, his life, his challenges...Harry himself knew virtually nothing about Sirius.

"Should I be worried that you are changing the subject from my supposed spanking to my supposed love life?"

Harry answered with his silence.

Sirius frowned, but then smiled. "Yes, yes, I was. And she was the most brilliant witch I have had the pleasure of meeting."

"Who?" Harry asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Amelia Bones..."

"Really?" Harry asked, wide eyed.

Sirius snorted. "You really are thick, aren't you my dear godson? If I were dating her, I'd have never went to that hell hole. Amelia _hated_ the Marauders."

"Then who?" Harry asked again. It seemed too important a part of Sirius' life that he wasn't even reacting to Sirius' barb.

"Before her name, let me tell you how I met her. She was a Hufflepuff. Two years above me. You see, when we were young, we had this craving to explore the castle...we wanted to know everything about it...every damn thing..."

"So one day, we found ourselves in front of the Hufflepuff common room and said why not? Well, we were drunk – and mind it, we were only third years – and it was past 3 in the night, or morning, whatever you wanna call it."

Harry listened as Sirius slowly got absorbed in his story.

"Wormtail somehow holed his way inside and opened the door for us. So, we got inside and wondered what were we supposed to do? The common room was empty, save for a few dying embers of fire and a few vines groaning in a corner. Yup, they keep plants in there. By then, James was already smitten with Lily and taken a pledge that she would be the only girl in his life whether she liked him or not, so he utterly refused to even think about what we all, that is, Me, Moony and Wormtail were thinking."

"We decided to keep him on guard and took out a galleon. We all liked older girls. Moony got Seventh years, Wormy that shit got sixth years and I got fifth years. Shrugging my shoulders, I ran up the stairs-"

"How?"

"I'll teach you the spell later. Anyway, so we went up the stairs and went our separate ways. She was the first one I laid my eyes on. There she was, a pair of glasses on her cute little nose, she was still wearing them while asleep and there was a book in her hands clutched to her chest, and she looked so bloody innocent."

"As you can imagine, I was immediately floored. But still, I checked all the other girls...just to compare...and found them relatively unattractive. Returning to her, I sat on her bed, very gently removed her glasses and the book and snug into her comforter."

Harry gaped. "You just-"

"Oh yes. I was brash like that. And soon enough, she was snuggling into me as well."

"Really?"

"Well, she _was _asleep. But I have my charms indeed. Next thing I know, I wake up to a banshee screaming at the top of her lungs."

"So she kicked you out?"

"It wasn't her. It was Wormtail getting his ass kicked by some sixth year. But yes, it was enough to disrupt her sleep."

"What did she do?"

Sirius smiled. "Well, we were still snuggled quite closely together and she _was_ resting her head on top of me. She woke up quite slowly but I saw the instant she realized something was wrong and looked at my face. Apparently, she knew me as I was quite popular at the time."

"I waited for her to shout or scream but she just sat up and kept looking at me. After a minute when I had almost had my throat in my lungs, she quietly pointed her finger towards the gate...and I ran."

Harry looked at Sirius' happy grin and realized that there we some memories even dementors couldn't take away. "What happened after that...did you...I mean..."

"Oh yes...it took me some time but she eventually came around and two years later, we made love in that same common room in front of those dying embers of fire. You _do _know what making love is, right?"

Well, Harry had heard enough and decided to ignore his question. "Who was she?"

"It doesn't matter, she..." Sirius said, an angry cloud suddenly coming over his relaxed face.

"Did she...?" Harry asked, feeling that he knew the answer.

"No." Sirius spat. "She is alive. Worse than alive..."

For some reason, Harry was suddenly beginning to feel afraid. Somehow, a nagging feeling was slipping into his conscious mind that he somehow knew who the witch was and he should have known beforehand. The anger Sirius had exhibited towards his demented cousin in his last lifetime before falling through the Veil might just have been a lot more personal than Harry had ever thought.

"Who...who, Sirius?"

Sirius looked at him. Hard. And then said a name. "Alice..."

Despite himself, Harry's eyes widened at the confirmation.

"Neville's mother?"

Sirius nodded, his mouth set in a thin line.

Harry remained quiet for a while, unable to take his eyes off his godfather's and just now realizing that he might never have known this man at all had he himself not died and came back to have a second chance at life. It took him a couple of tries to get out the words out of his mouth. "Then...why...why weren't you together?

Sirius sighed, his anger giving way to a sad wistful smile.. "You know Harry, I always ask myself that very same question even today. I loved her and I am pretty sure she would have loved me back, had I only asked. You see, while I chased her, I always told myself that she was just another girl and maybe she got the message too."

"But..."

"It was difficult for me to...accept that someone like her could care for me. Except that night. That was the only time, we both were honest with each other."

Harry nodded. "And you just let her go?"

"I was a teenager. I was confused, not like your dad. And she was gone by the time I could even begin to make heads or tails of my feelings. I had enough drama with my cursed family in my life to give her any time, even in my thoughts, after she graduated. And then, she found Frank among the Aurors and...well, he was a better man in any way that mattered and a good friend too...and I was...happy for her."

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered, as he looked away from Sirius' suspiciously shiny eyes. "I never tagged you for such an emotional cluster fuck Padfoot."

Sirius laughed. "Good words you are learning there kid. To answer the question, maybe it was James' influence on me. Not even Moony knew about her. Only James did. I just wish..."

"What...?"

"I wish I could kill Bellatrix with my bare hands," Sirius snarled. "That bitch kept ranting about how she tortured...Alice...and Frank for twelve fucking years and more than being Padfoot, that was what kept me from going insane. Revenge."

Harry nodded, knowingly. "Revenge _is_ the greatest motivation. But she is dead now."

"I _know,_" Sirius snapped. "But I don't like how she escaped justice_. Azkaban wasn't enough."_

Harry raised his hands. "Cool there Padfoot. I'm not _her_. Why don't you go and take a bath?"

Sirius nodded and went out the door without a word.

"Okay," Harry sighed. "Life just keeps getting interesting."

* * *

After listening to Sirius' even more morbid tale than he remembered, Harry decided that he quickly needed to do something because Sirius wasn't the only one who was angry. Alice Longbottom was his godmother, after all.

He found himself directly apparating to the graveyard of Little Hangleton. It occurred to him that not giving any thoughts to problems had always worked better for him than planning his way and regretting it later.

He _would_ find a way to get to the ring and beat Riddle's stupid curse and all his stupid protections one way or another. With that in his mind, he called his wand to him appeared in his hand in a silver shimmer. It was a nice little trick from the Black library to avoid getting disarmed...similar to the one placed on Gryffindor's sword.

Making his way towards the end of the village and into the woods leading to the shack, Harry quickly went through what he knew about the defences of the dilapidated house. One, the ring had a compulsion that forced someone to wear it, much like the diary that forced one to write in it. Two, it had a withering curse that was enough to kill within minutes without the help of one Severus Snape, but for that Harry had already prepared a little potion in the form of a contingency plan if the compulsion actually worked in the first place. Three, the ring was hidden_ in_ the floor. Four, hundreds of snakes defended the ring. Five, there were surely wards he didn't know about.

As he neared the woods and saw the outline of the hiding place of one of Tom's containers, Harry couldn't help but feel a certain sense of dread on the back of his neck. Something felt wrong about the place. Maybe it was the overall energy or the horcrux or something he couldn't put his finger on, but he suddenly wanted to be anywhere but there. Though it was too late.

Just as he crossed the perimeter of the wards, he realized that there was no need to remember anything he knew of the defences of the place, because they were obviously changed.

Just as a dozen pops went around him in a circle, Harry realized that he had grossly underestimated Riddle's penchant for working things through in his mind. He prepared a flaming whip to slice through the masked goons but before he could blink his eye, one of them threw a coin in his direction and he felt a familiar tug on his navel.

He found himself facing the one he absolutely did not want to face right _then _and groaned.

_Shit_

The white face, the chilling smile, the red eyes...they were all so familiar to Harry...that he was firing curses before his feet had even properly landed but...

...his eyes widened in shock as absolutely nothing happened. No spells came out of his wand, no multi colours of light raining down his foe. Absolutely nothing happened.

He looked at his wand in anger and betrayal and the now laughing Dark Lord in terrible comprehension.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed, "you finally grace my court."

Harry stood up and glared. "Too afraid now, are we Tom? You need a magic negating field to fight me."

Voldemort laughed even harder this time and stopped just as abruptly. "You are one to sspeak Harry. Travelling through time to kill your betters..."

Harry's face went absolutely still. There was no way it was more than a guess but a guess this accurate? "I am flattered Tom. Are you really saying that I am powerful enough to travel through time? That I have found magic you could only _dream_ about?"

"You are a great liar Harry Potter...but not good enough." Voldemort said. "Tell me, how did you do it? Or shall I directly snatch this information from your feeble little brain?"

"Try." Harry challenged.

"Ah...but you know I will have to remove the restrictions on magic in this room to attempt legilimency on you...a curious problem indeed, don't you think?"

Harry's mind was working in two stages in that moment. One part was focused on Voldemort and his obsessive need for a good conversation and the other was looking at his options. The other part, he was free to admit, was failing quite spectacularly at his job. According to that part of his brain, there were exactly _zero_ options left to him.

"I know not Harry the method of travelling you somehow learnt, and thus, I cannot risk giving you the opportunity to run away this time..."

Harry blinked. So, Voldemort feared he could travel through time at will.

"But you cannot kill me either." Harry finally pointed out, making a bluff.

Voldemort looked at him with narrowed eyes, casually twirling his wand in his fingers and equally unable to do shit with it. "Why do you think so, young Potter?"

Harry smiled and pointed at his scar. "This is a Horcrux Tom. The one you never intended."

Harry knew it was shit because he was no more a Horcrux than the destroyed locket or the cup lying at the bottom of his trunk. But there was enough truth in his lie to stop Voldemort cold in his tracks.

"I see..." said the Dark Lord, after a while. "The idea never crossed my mind, I admit, but it is entirely possible. This...complicates things further. You knowing about my relics was bad enough, you being one..."

Then Voldemort grinned and Harry suddenly understood that he wasn't planning on killing him at all. Involuntarily, he shuddered.

"There it is, a trickle of fear...do not worry Harry Potter. It will be pain, Oh sso much pain, and then...nothing. I will own you."

Without explaining further, Voldemort closed his eyes and Harry watched as one by one, a gaggle of death eaters entered to witness his fate at the hands of their master. Then, Voldemort spoke.

"My dear friends, today we are here to welcome our esteemed guest Harry Potter in our midst."

No one spoke. Harry could almost hear the silence.

"He, I admit, is a worthy foe. He, a fifteen year old is courageous enough to think he could beat me. And I respect that courage. But I also mustn't allow such courage to harbour against this esteemed organisation."

Again, no one said a word as Voldemort took pause and Harry waited with baited breath.

"Alas, I cannot do magic for our friend here has an annoying tendency to find ways to run away when I try to kill him. But today he mustn't and I mustn't either. Oh yes, Harry, you are far too valuable to kill now. I will give you something much...worse."

With that, Voldemort signalled one of his death eaters who nodded before the door opened once again and two people brought something carrying between them.

It was a coffin.

"Tell me Harry, what do you get when you combine powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Draught of Living Death. His wide eyes gave away the answer.

"Indeed Mr. Potter, full marks. Severus has taught you well."

Harry snarled. "How do you plan on putting it inside me you fool, with no magic? A fist fight, maybe?"

Voldemort was clearly enjoying his panic as he began moving towards him with a sick smile, putting away his wand. Harry readied himself in a combat stance and forgot about anything other than the door on the other end of the room.

Just as Voldemort was within his range, he jumped up and landed a fist on his nose and kicked his solar plexus with all his might.

Voldemort just laughed, and backhanded him.

"My strength isn't just my wand Potter. My body is equally, if not more, formidable."

Harry could only glower with impotent rage. He realized that plans were indeed necessary before charging through.

Voldemort came forward and grabbed him by the throat and pulled him up in the air, and Harry could only struggle for breathe, only to throw him away at the wall like a rag doll.

He did not stop at that and repeated it twice as all his funkies laughed uproariously and the utter humiliation of one Harry Potter.

Harry felt himself being raised in air once again but this time, rather than throwing him away, Harry felt Voldemort raise him above his head in a horizontal position and before he could even grasp the horror of what was about to happen, Voldemort had already brought him down on his knee and cracked his spine.

And Harry screamed and screamed and screamed.

Until he felt a potion being dropped in his mouth and oblivion took him.

* * *

_For me, Sirius has the saddest tale in HP folklore. So, I decided to make it even sadder by giving him an incomplete love story and a reason for hating his cousin._

_Hope you all like it. This chapter was entirely written on my Android because I am stuck without my laptop for the past couple of months. Review!_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Here we go again. Fair Warning: This Chapter is M rated._

* * *

**Chapter - 10**

Roughly Two hundred miles away from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a very old and opulent manor. No one knew the exact location or even the direction of the manor from the ancient school though, as it had been marked unplottable by the greatest dark wizard of the century. The lush green fields laying open in all the directions and the beautiful dancing peacocks did nothing to do away with the silent and creepy atmosphere emanating from the master bedroom on the third floor western wing. Lucius Malfoy had been kind enough to vacate the entire floor for his master's comfort.

Adjacent to the bedroom was a study and diametrically opposite to it was the potion's lab. Adjacent to this potions lab was the ETAD Room. While his death eaters could only guess what was in this room, Lord Voldemort knew that it was empty of anything materialistic. Magic though, that was something the room _reeked_ of. Dark magic that could corrupt one's soul flowed through its walls. While one could always find a door to go inside the ETAD room, coming out wasn't an easy feat. Few of his men found this out the wrong way and the rest made it a point to avoid it at all costs. ETAD room, in fact, was one of the dark lord's finest creations. His life-long desire, one of the few he had yet to realize. ETAD, of course, stood for 'Eternal Torture for Albus Dumbledore'. Corny, yes, but even Voldemort had his guilty pleasures.

To Voldemort's eternal dismay, Dumbledore was yet to grace the room with his presence. But today, he had decided not to be picky. For today, he had the headmaster's little boy wonder, the elusive _Harry Potter _himself.

Voldemort laughed as he opened the door to the special room designed for Albus Dumbledore's remaining days and flicked his wand to throw the floating coffin containing a half dead Harry Potter inside. Harry Potter wouldn't feel a thing under the effects of the draught but the room's aura would surely help in chaining his mind all the more tighter, should he somehow gain even a wisp of consciousness.

Voldemort, as usual, underestimated Harry Potter.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore smacked his hand on the mirror in front of him, uncaring of either the blood that now reddened his carpet, or the man who promptly took out a vial of potion and moved it in his direction.

"Hurting yourself would achieve nothing, Headmaster," said Snape.

"Quiet Severus," snapped Dumbledore.

It was quite unlike of Dumbledore to snap at Severus Snape in such a way, but the news his young friend had brought him was nothing short of a disaster he never wished to witness in his lifetime. Harry…abducted…tortured…maimed.

Dumbledore rubbed his eyes together. It was all happening too fast. His plans were slow, long term measures involving mechanics so carefully thought out that no one but himself could be positive of the results. And Dumbledore believed the world was a better place for them.

But this. _This._

This wasn't part of his plans. Voldemort knew Harry was a Horcrux. Voldemort wanted to keep Harry alive, if only barely. Voldemort had literally broken Harry. Ant to top it all, the Order wasn't ready. He just could not afford a full frontal attack on Malfoy Manor however much he wished to do exactly that.

Only a moment passed, but for Dumbledore, it must have been a lifetime when he spoke. "Call Sirius."

It was Snape's turn to snap. "What do you want the mutt for?"

The headmaster closed his eyes and with great effort kept himself under control. "He is everything Harry has Severus and same goes the other way. Sirius deserves to know. Now do as I say."

Snape's face looked pinched but he acquiesced. It was only a moment before he took his head back out of the fireplace. "He is not at the headquarters," he said.

Dumbledore sighed, and turned towards his newly born phoenix. "Where is he then?"

* * *

To most wizards who went to Hogwarts, their years started not with the school itself but with shopping for the endless list of supplies that came with their letters. Diagon Alley suited their needs just fine in this regard and they had no need to look beyond.

But Diagon surely wasn't the only alley for the wizarding folks of London. The darker ones; thieves, rapists and murderers, and elves gone rogue, werewolves and vampires, or the elite who wished to remain inconspicuous; basically anyone who wanted anything that would look improper in decent society went to Knockturn instead.

'If you don't find it in Diagon, turn left,' they said. 'Everything has a price, but you'll find Everything.'

Just two blocks down the road in Knockturn was a whorehouse. Unlike the other budding businesses in the Alley which preferred their buildings to be shabby and dingy to give them a gothic feel and ensnare dubious characters, Madam Alana's was as pristine and shiny as one could be. The white marble flooring, a hallway wide enough for a dozen fat men to walk languidly and a stunning blond with see-through clothes behind the reception.

The lady, the owner in fact, was there to note down any particular service requests one had and match them with viable options before allotting the desired rooms, or to some old customers, point out the direction of their own pre-booked keeps.

It was everything the Malfoys and Notts of the world cared for.

This was the place where the scions of the above two mentioned families found themselves a day after the abduction of one Harry James Potter. It was Junior Malfoy's fifteenth birthday after all.

Draco sighed nervously as he stood ten paces away from the reception, eyeing the blond greedily.

"Nervous, Malfoy?" Nott asked.

Malfoy glared. "As if you weren't a wreck before your father brought you to this place…"

"Was I?" Nott laughed. "No, I don't think so. I was super confident of my downbuddy unlike you. Notts are as virile as they come."

"Shut up."

"I thought the same of the Malfoys as well, but I guess I was wrong."

"Shut up Nott," growled Malfoy, "or I'll take your so called virility and shove it so far down your throat that none of the whores here would be able to find it back for you."

Nott raised his hands. "All right, all right. Can we just move already and get ourselves some…and remember, be respectful."

"Sure…"

They reached the reception and Malfoy felt himself feeling a little jealous of the way Nott was treated by the receptionist cum owner of the premise. "Lord Nott, we welcome you back in our humble abode."

She couldn't be more than thirty. Fair, blonde and just about the same height as Draco himself. He couldn't help but stare at the glossy red lips or the pointed perks hidden behind the soft transparent fabric on the voluptuous woman.

Nott took her hand and kissed the back of it. "I am not yet a Lord, my gorgeous lady. And may I please introduce you, dear Alana, to the future Lord Malfoy here."

"Of course," said Alana turning to face Malfoy, "who else could it be but him? My pleasure, Lord Malfoy."

Malfoy knew he wasn't his father but the words made him feel a little lightheaded, especially when they were spoken in such a seductive tone.

"What would my Lords want today?" Malfoy heard her say.

"I would trust you to know my preferences by now," Nott replied, "but is Keira available by any chance?"

"Of course, My Lord. And for you, Mr. Malfoy?"

Before Malfoy could open his mouth, Nott spoke for him. "Ah. It's his first time…just give him someone who is gentle, slow and isn't too disappointed by the end."

"Of cours-"

"I can speak for myself Nott," Malfoy interrupted, gritting his teeth, and turned to the receptionist after making up his mind. "I want you."

Alana smiled and cocked an eyebrow. "I am flattered, Lord Malfoy. As it happens, I work only in the position of a manager here. We do have a great catalogue though and my girls will provide you with more care and comfort than I possibly can. You see-"

"No, I want to fuck _you_ whore."

Nott's eyes widened. "That is not the language we use here Draco, I told you."

"Did you, Lord Nott," said Alana with a new tint in her voice, and a straightened back. "He is a well-bred pureblood after all."

"Name your price," continued Malfoy, leering.

"Draco, you should apologize-"

"My my…aren't you a wealthy little hunk, willing to throw your money around like that?" asked Alana, with a predatory smile. "Let me think…hmmm…I shall provide myself…free of cost in fact…just for you. You may use me as you wish and as long as you wish, but I have a _small_ condition…"

Nott's eyes widened. "Alana, forgive him. He doesn't know you. Malfoy, she is -"

"Shut up, Nott," Malfoy growled. "I don't care. I want her. What's your condition?"

"Just that _I_ will use you afterwards, for as long as _I_ wish, and it will be _long,_ until I am spent…Think well young lord. I doubt you could handle the likes of me. Your father_ failed…_"

"You dare," hissed Malfoy.

"Malfoy-"

"Ah, you are quick to anger, Draco," said Alana, tracing one of her finger-nails along Malfoy's cheek. "Are you sure you are patient enough to fulfill my desires?"

"You are but a whore woman. I'll show you your place soon enough," answered Malfoy, furious.

"Very well. If you'll just follow me to my chambers, Lord Malfoy. Lord Nott, Keira will be here in a moment…"

"Alana-"

"Don't worry, my Lord, I will bring him back in one piece…eventually, I should think."

"But-"

Alana took Malfoy's hand and guided him to the closest door nearby. As soon as they were gone, Nott threw up.

_His Father will kill me._

* * *

Sirius Black, wearing a long coat and a cowl to mask his appearance, leaned against the damp wall to patiently wait for the boys to come out. To any observer, he would have seemed a casual guy smoking weed, but underneath he was boiling with rage and desperation.

Harry had been kidnapped. He had known before Dumbledore. Unbeknownst to Harry, Sirius had tasked Dobby to keep an eye on him for exactly such a scenario. He had expected the elf to save him in case of emergency but Voldemort had outwitted him.

Dobby had been hysterical for a long time and Sirius found himself running towards the gates of Malfoy Manor before some sane part of his psych pulled out a memory - the memory of him waking up in a damp cell in Azkaban prison for the first time - and stopped him from repeating old mistakes. His brashness and idiocy had cost him twelve years of misery and separation from his godson, more couldn't be allowed.

With the help of the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, he had confirmed that Harry was being held captive in Malfoy Manor and he was in no condition to pull off a runner on his own; but most importantly, he was _alive_. That was all that mattered, anything else could be dealt with.

Some specks of a plan had begun forming in his mind immediately but he knew Dumbledore wouldn't be thrilled, so it was better to not involve him.

And so here he was, outside the Knockturn Whorehouse to where Dobby had tailed the Junior DE. He desperately needed a Malfoy to enact his plan, after all.

An hour later, Sirius watched as the Nott boy exited the building but with no sign of his buddy. To top it off, the boy seemed hurried and angry. Sirius debated with himself for a second but deemed it a necessary risk.

He let the boy pass him and as soon as he did, Sirius pulled him up by the scruff of his neck and put him against the wall. "Where is Malfoy?" he growled, in a voice much heavier than usual.

"Who-o a-are you?" the boy asked, flailing uselessly. "Leave me."

Sirius put the tip of his wand against his neck. "I will not ask again boy. Where is Malfoy?"

Nott gulped. "Okay, okay. Madam Alana took him to her chambers."

"What? But she-"

"I know, I know, alright. But the pompous fool insulted her and –"

Sirius had heard enough. He obliviated Nott of any knowledge of Malfoy's whereabouts and sent him on his way.

_This complicates matters_, He thought. _And makes them simpler as well_.

Sirius moved to meet Madam Alana, after a very long time.

* * *

Draco Malfoy would be lying if he said that he didn't feel good. He did. He felt absolute ecstasy for the first few times. The whore did everything he wanted before he could say it and he felt like the lord of the world, not just a lord, _the _Lord. She was his bitch and he will _bend _her. And going by the noises she was making, she seemed to be enjoying it a lot too.

It was great while it lasted.

Afterwards, he had just wanted to lay down and rest for a bit...but she wouldn't let him. So he allowed her to play with him some more. He was in a forgiving mood after her pleasing performance in bed for his official first time. Nott had no idea but he had experimented a little with Pansy last year. She was nowhere near the whore.

So Malfoy let her do as she liked, as she pulled him, sucked him, bit him and one time, slapped him on his butt of all places. After a while, he got really tired.

But then too, she wouldn't let him rest.

So he objected and tried to throw her off him. But she wouldn't budge. Her strength seemed too much and his too little. He was surprised to find, as she kept him in place, all the while jumping up and down on his body. More than her perfect breasts, he watched her mouth and her eyes. She was grinning madly and her pupils kept on dilating like a cat, and Draco felt frightened.

"Move away, will you? I am done."

In answer, she growled. Actually, truly, growled. And Draco watched the now visible pointy canines on either side of her mouth. He also couldn't help but notice that her nose and ears became a bit pointy. She then bit him on his neck, not at all softly, and he whimpered. _What the hell?_

* * *

Sirius entered the building he knew oh so well from his young days and walked towards the reception. As he already knew, Alana wasn't there but instead some other witch named Diana.

"I'd like to meet Alana," he said.

"I apologize, sir. But Madam is away for the time being. I don't know when she'll be back."

Sirius sighed. "I know she is inside toying with the Malfoy heir. Tell him Padfoot asks for her. She knows me."

Diana looked at him, up and down, seemed to make up her mind and moved towards the door. She knocked twice, came back, sent a spell towards the door and then did nothing.

Sirius waited and a couple of minutes later, Alana opened the door and for the briefest of seconds, he heard someone screaming his throat raw, but he ignored it with the practiced ease of being a former Azkaban inmate.

"Padfoot, so great to see you…and after so long too…" greeted Alana, as she came forward and gave him a tight hug. "I thought you'd never visit."

Sirius smiled and allowed her to lead him to a private space. Alana was a friend, an old friend. Old in the sense that she was old, very old, though she didn't look that way. She was also a succubus, a creature of sex and frenzy with a pride fiercer than a hippogriff, and so the Malfoy boy had literally fucked himself up.

The whole of Knockturn knew what she was and so everyone respected her, until Malfoy. The boy really should have known.

"I thought so too, but you started eating my meat. Looking into young boys now, are we?"

Alana laughed, threading her hands behind his neck. "Oh no. It's been a long time since someone showed interest in me. That's all."

"As if."

"I hope _you_ are free tonight…"

Sirius sighed. "Afraid not. Just…how long can you keep him?"

Alana raised an eyebrow. "As long as you wish. He is my bitch. What is this about again?"

"Voldemort kidnapped my godson and he's in Malfoy Manor. I have to break in…"

"Oh Sirius. And are you going to do this alone?"

"Yes…I am afraid."

"Can I do something?" She asked with genuine concern in her voice.

"I need to see the boy, get something out of his head and umm…and some of his hair too."

"Of course. Come with me…I should also give you something that should help your godson…Harry Potter…when you meet him. But only if you promise to bring him to me someday."

Sirius grinned. "I think he'll like you…"

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry Potter was wide awake in his very own coffin.

As it happened, Dark Lord Voldemort had a number of small but _significant _gaps in his knowledge regarding his young nemesis. While he had an idea that his diary had been destroyed and the great serpent of Slytherin was killed by a twelve-year-old Harry Potter, his knowledge did not go into details. Details such as the one that Harry was actually bitten by the said serpent and that alongside the serpent's poison, the tears of a phoenix also ran in his blood.

That he was effectively immune to any and all poisons, much to the exasperation of his future ex-wife in another life.

That The Draught of Living Death too was technically a poison, and so, it had no effect on Harry Potter whatsoever.

His spine though was another matter entirely. Pain, so great that the cruciatus would seem a tickle in comparison, racked his entire body. He could feel his magic fighting to keep him alive. He could also feel it failing as another magic, much darker and deeper, fought to get him under its control. He could feel his mind going numb and jerk awake in a never ending cycle. He felt hot and cold at the same time, as if he was trapped in a great lake of ice but it was hot molten lava in there and not water.

He could feel the burning chains of fire hitting him from all directions and scraping his skin from his flesh. He was running but it was not solid ground that he felt, but needles, thousands and thousands of tiny needles, wounding his legs and bleeding him to death, and also keeping him alive but only just.

He could feel the dementors, not one but ALL, everywhere he looked… sucking his soul, tearing it apart and giving it back to him only to take it before it reached him. He could feel being one of the inferi in a great lake, lying awake and waiting for any intruders for years to come. He could feel the thestrals eating his flesh as he himself tore it and gave it to them and gradually was left with nothing except bones.

He could see Death in all its glory, grasped in one hand his Scythe adorned with a skull bearing a lightning bolt scar on its forehead, mocking him and his fruitless life. He could feel him getting violated by a gaggle of death eaters as they ripped him apart one by one, one piece at a time. He could feel Bellatrix Lestrange killing him and throwing him into the Veil where he fell in an ocean of liquid fire and drowned.

He could feel it all at once.

But he could not scream. He could only watch the nothingness and feel the pain.

"_Sirius_…"

* * *

_Huh. Hope you liked it. Review!_


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